


I Will Give You the Moon (It’s the Least I Can Do)

by TheMipstaz



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Zayn, Blow Jobs, Bottom Niall, Dogs, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Shifting, Getting Together, Hurt Niall, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, Niall Horan & Liam Payne Friendship, Pack Dynamics, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Turning, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: 5 times Niall thought Zayn was a werewolf + 1 time Zayn actually was





	1. Pack Mentality

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my very first foray into writing 1D. Is this a mistake? Probably. Do I have regrets? Sure, but not about this 20k monster. 
> 
> Shout out to [Eli](https://mercuryraindrops.tumblr.com) for agreeing that I was crazy to join this fest but encouraging me every step of the way anyway and to [Alex](https://queerlyalex.tumblr.com) for unleashing my inner 1D fangirl I suppressed in middle school. Couldn't have done this without y'all. 
> 
> Title from [Stand Up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06orN-W_MBQ).
> 
> Find me as always on [Tumblr](https://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com).

The first time Niall meets the unfairly attractive bloke from his Evolution of Mythology Through the Ages course, it’s technically not their first time meeting. If someone anal—ahem, Liam—wants to get  _ technical _ , Niall once accidentally knocked the guy’s notebook off his desk, sputtered unattractively while he hastily replaced it, and legged it out of the class. But not before he had spotted what must’ve been a name scribbled in the top corner: Zayn. 

In Niall’s defense, Zayn’s got cheekbones that could cut glass and miles-long eyelashes. Poor, ordinary plebeians like Niall aren’t equipped to deal with people like that, who look like they’re on their way to a GQ photoshoot. 

But Niall likes to be optimistic when he can, so he’s going to call tonight, at Liam’s classmate’s house party, their first meeting because he can. The way Niall’s eyes catch Zayn’s from across the room like a magnet, the warm quirk of his lips, it feels like a proper first meeting. 

So fuck you, Liam. 

Niall smiles sunnily at him, jerks his head in invitation, and can’t help but hide a pleased smile into his solo cup when Zayn nudges at his friends and they all start to wander towards where Niall and Liam are standing. 

Liam’s eyes track someone going upstairs and he quickly mutters, “Hey, you’ll be okay on your own for a sec, right? I’ll be back in 10.” 

“Wait, what? Liam, don’t—” But his piece of shit wingman is gone before Niall can grab him. Isn’t this against the mandatory safe partying etiquette course they had to take freshman year? Not that Niall would know, per se, since he made Liam click through the veritable hours of videos and tutorials for him. 

Zayn and his two friends wind through the crowded room towards Niall before he can panic properly and make an escape. When they get close enough that Niall can speak and be heard without yelling too hard over the crappy dance music blasting through the speakers, Niall swallows his nerves and leans in to formally introduce himself. He extends a hand to Zayn first, only to find the swoopy-haired boy sliding between them. He narrows his eyes disdainfully at Niall’s proffered hand and haughtily sniffs, “And who are you?” 

“Louis,” says the other boy, who was in the middle before Niall blinked and missed Louis teleporting to Zayn’s side, “cool it.” He slouches casually and runs a hand through the wild curls brushing his floral-print shoulders. He smiles easily at Niall despite Louis’ disapproving glare. “Sorry ‘bout him. Louis’ doesn’t like strangers much.” 

“We can fix that,” Niall replies, determined to hold his own even without Liam to back him up. He’s equally determined to politely keep his eyes fixed on the boy’s face instead of the myriad tattoos bared by his inexplicably unbuttoned shirt. 

The second boy’s eyes twinkle. “I’m Harry. You a friend of Zayn’s?” His gaze flicks between Niall and Zayn. 

“We have Mythology together.” Niall glances at Zayn, searches for a sign of recognition. 

His stomach warms when he sees Zayn’s  _ aha _ moment, only to sour with embarrassment when Zayn snaps his fingers and nods. “You threw my spiral on the ground one time after class.” 

Louis all but snarls. He lunges forward to grab Niall by the front of his shirt and slams him up against the wall. Niall yelps and drops his drink in shock, barely notices the lukewarm beer soaking his jeans against the sharp pain of his back hitting drywall. He grabs Louis by the wrists to try and shove him away, but his grip is like iron despite the deceptively lean build. 

“On accident!” amends Zayn hurriedly, rushing forward. “It wasn’t on purpose, Lou, I swear.” Harry wrestles Louis away while Zayn smoothes an apologetic hand over Niall’s rumpled shirt and damp pants that are now sticky, but not in the fun way. 

Normally, Niall would bask in a cute boy running his hands frantically over his body. But he’s a bit distracted by the fact he could’ve sworn he just heard Harry quietly growl like a dog or something else equally crazy. And then he sees Louis’ eyes flash gold over Zayn’s shoulder, and Niall decides that’s enough to drink for one night even though it’s barely past midnight. 

“I’m really sorry,” Zayn apologizes profusely. He bites his bottom lip shyly and glances nervously over his shoulder at Harry, who shoots them a thumbs up as best he can while he manhandles Louis away. 

“I’ll be right back. Be safe!” Harry calls helpfully. He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Zayn flushes, and Niall barks out a laugh. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“Which really isn’t much of a warning at all,” Zayn whispers conspiratorially, his lips brushing Niall’s ear in a way that has Niall suppressing shivers. “Harry’s done some stupid ass shit. A real wild child, that one.” 

“Wearing  _ that _ Hawaiian shirt, I’d believe it,” Niall deadpans. 

Zayn snorts, leaning further into Niall’s space like they’re sharing a secret. Maybe they are. Maybe Zayn can’t fuck up his cool guy image with something as innocent as a laugh. The dark jeans, black boots, and sinister tattoos crawling up his arms are badass, but they’re not that badass. He looks up at Niall through thick lashes, mouth corner quirked up. “I’m Zayn, by the way. Don’t know if we ever officially introduced ourselves. Can’t keep calling you the cute one from Myth forever.” 

Pleased, Niall flushes a bit. He catalogues the playful glint in Zayn’s eyes, the tilt of his shoulders towards Niall’s, and offers, “Niall. I was about to when your guard dog tried to rip my head off.”

Niall wonders if he imagines the way Zayn starts a little at his words, grips his beer bottle a little tighter. But the moment passes in a heartbeat, and Zayn’s tension melts away with his sheepish chuckle. “Louis means well.” He scratches the back of his neck and winces at Niall’s skeptically raised brow. “He’s just, uh, protective. Like the brother I never had.” 

“Some brother,” Niall comments. He shuffles over to grab another beer from the table despite his previous decision not to hallucinate anymore tonight. His Irish blood can only resist its calling for so long, even when the calling tastes like water someone peed in. “Mine would’ve high-fived anyone who knocked my books off my desk. Maybe asked ‘em to do it again.” 

Zayn’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles this time, drawing Niall in like one of those sirens they studied last semester. Something feels a bit off with Louis’ eyes and Harry’s scarily accurate dog imitation, but the red flags don’t deter Niall’s desire for the alluring mermaids on the rocks, or in this case the pretty boy with dark eyes and tight jeans. 


	2. Black

After successfully staving off getting completely smashed until after he got Zayn’s number, Niall thinks he should feel more jubilant than he does. However, the digits don’t do jackshit for his raging hangover the next morning. His brain feels like it’s tried to impersonate a hot air balloon overnight, exerting an aching pressure against the back of Niall’s eyes. His mouth tastes like something died in it, then got eaten by a crow or something, and shit out again.

Beams of too Goddamn bright sunlight lance through his closed lids, and Niall groans. While channelling his inner sea lion unfortunately doesn’t extinguish the sun, it does incite Liam’s ungodly chipper voice. “Oh good, you didn’t die of alcohol poisoning last night.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Niall grunts, hiding his pounding head under his pillow.

“Alright, alright,” Liam relents, voice a bit muffled through the pillowcase, “but we have Linear Algebra at 1.”

“Liam, s’like you want me to chuck this pillow at your head.”

“I’m just saying,” Liam continues, unfazed by Niall’s familiar hungover routine of idle threats, “we should probably get coffee and lunch or something if you don’t want to feel like absolute shit.”

Niall does throw his pillow. But it’s out of annoyance that he knows Liam’s right.

* * *

“So.”

“So what?”

Liam’s mouth curls up at the corner as he nudges Niall’s shoulder. “So last night. At the party. You were talking to that guy. What was his name?”

“Zayn.” Niall purposefully keeps his gaze fixed on the math notes he’s shuffling through. “Damn matrices. D’you think I should go to one of those discussion groups? I don’t really get how to do the whole row reduced echelon form thing.”

“Niall,” Liam exasperatedly tugs the papers out of his hands, “as much as I love to talk about schoolwork—” Niall makes a face because he knows that statement from straight-laced, rule-following Liam isn’t as sarcastic as it should be “—please stop evading my questions. You haven’t stopped talking about him once this semester. And then when I actually want to hear about him, now’s when you wanna clam up on me?”

“I just,” Niall chews on his bottom lip to smother the grin he can feel bubbling up anyway, “I really like him, okay? I don’t want to speak too soon or jinx it or anything, but, Liam, he’s great. Seems quiet at first, but we never ran out of things to talk about. He’s into comics and charcoal drawings and the like. Artsy stuff. Smart as hell.”

Liam smiles as Niall gets rolling.

“Remember that English course we had to take freshman year, the one with the nasty prof that nearly failed me? He aced it. And he’s got these wicked tats all up and down his arms and maybe his chest, and I—”

“Okay, okay,” laughs Liam, slapping a hand over Niall’s mouth and jolting the glazed look out of his eyes. “He’s perfect; I get it. Next time I complain about you not talking, tell me to shut it, would you?”

Niall sticks out his tongue. “You wished this upon yourself, just remember that.” His eyes go a bit thoughtful. “Too bad his friends are a bit loony. You should’ve seen it, Liam. Last night, they were all, like, connected at the hip or something. It was freaky. One of ‘em was a real prick and tried to—what the hell!”

It happens in a flash. One second, Liam and Niall are peacefully walking down the path from the quad to the library; the next, Niall is on the ground with 70 kilos of black fur on his chest. Niall sees his life flash before his eyes on the way down—his mother’s smile, Greg’s obnoxious laugh—and wheezes when all the air knocks out of his lungs in one big _whoosh_. Massive fangs, dripping with saliva, fill his vision.

Niall barely has time to pray that Liam tells Maura he loves her before the beast descends on his face. With a slobbering, eager tongue. And a cool, snuffling nose.

“What the,” Niall sputters, shoving at the dog. It shifts back enough for Niall to sit up and glance at Liam’s pale face.

Liam chuckles nervously, extending an arm towards Niall. “Thought I lost you there, mate, when that hulking thing came at you.”

“Me too,” Niall grins weakly, trying to calm his racing heart. He reaches for Liam. “Where’s his owner?” He freezes when he feels more than hears the low, rumbling growl. The furiously wagging tail stills. The sleek, midnight pelt bristles warningly. Pearly white fangs appear when the dog curls its lips back. Dark eyes zero in on Liam.

“Z! Z, there you are!”

Niall whips his head around to see none other than Harry and Louis running towards them. Well, Harry is running—curls flying, shirt buttons barely hanging in there. Louis is walking over with a stupid smug smile.

“No fucking way,” Niall mutters as Harry reaches them, only a little out of breath.

“Sorry about that,” Harry grins. “Dunno what happened. He took off like a shot for no reason. I wasn’t paying attention.” He grabs the thick scruff at the back of Z’s neck and hauls him off of Niall. But since Z probably weighs more than Harry, it’s more like the dog huffs at Harry’s antics and grudgingly lets Harry drag him off of Niall.

“Wouldn’t be a problem if he had a leash,” Niall grouses halfheartedly. “Or a collar at least.”

“Nah, Z’s a free spirit,” Harry says sagely, patting the dog’s flank affectionately.

“Not much of a dog person, I take it,” Louis observes cooly as Niall shakily stands up and Liam brushes dirt off his bum.

“I am,” retorts Niall after squeezing Liam’s wrist reassuringly to let him knows he’s okay. “But that thing’s, like, a fucking wolf.” With a bit of distance, Niall can properly admire the muscled frame, the slender but powerful build, the alert and pointed ears, the intelligent eyes. It’s a beautiful animal as long as its fangs aren’t too close to Niall’s jugular.

“He’s a wolf hybrid actually,” Louis corrects, reaching down to scratch Z behind one jet black ear. He’s barely got an inch on Niall, but with a huge black wolf-dog at his side, Niall suddenly feels small and a bit intimidated. For the first time since their disastrous meeting, Niall wonders if he’s going to lose Louis’ persistent pissing contest. The pissing contest that Niall never agreed to, mind you.

“Louis?”

Louis blinks, startles out of his laser focus on Niall, and looks at, “Liam?”

To Niall’s utter disbelief, Liam’s shaken expression morphs into something sunshiny and bright. Niall feels his jaw drop further when Liam walks forward and meets Louis halfway for a tight, back-slapping hug. Harry and Niall shoot each other equally quizzical looks.

In the distraction, Z furtively slinks away from Harry and sits at Niall’s feet. His tail thumps the ground expectantly. Niall warily offers his fingers to sniff while Liam and Louis natter on about something or another. Z delicately noses at Niall’s palm and twitches his ear eagerly. Niall grins and scratches Z’s chin, combs through the thick fur on his chest.

Harry watches on with interest.

By the time Liam and Louis remember the rest of the world, Niall and Harry are seated on the gentle, grassy slope beside the path. Z lays comfortably across them, head in Niall’s lap and back leg jiggling as Harry scritches a sweet spot.

“So you two know each other,” Harry hazards a guess.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees enthusiastically, not catching on to the sarcasm at all. “Niall, I talk about Louis all the time. He’s my lab partner in O chem.”

Niall whistles, strokes Z’s silky ears. “No shit.”

Harry leers at Louis, who shuffles his feet nervously. “So that makes Liam the hot—oof!” Harry and Louis collapse in a heap after Louis lunges at Harry. Z barks and scrambles out of the way. Niall scoots away their roughhousing too, and Z trots after him. Liam looks faintly confused, but seems more interested in inching further from the hound than puzzling out Harry and Louis’ idiosyncrasies. Niall glances between Louis’ red face and Liam and raises an eyebrow.

“Nice to finally meet you, Liam,” Harry pants underneath Louis, who triumphantly pins Harry to the grass. “Look, I have to take Z home to feed him in a sec, but let’s all grab coffee or something. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.” He squints meaningfully at Louis and Niall. Louis juts out his chin stubbornly while Niall tugs at an invisible thread on his shirt.

“Yeah for sure.” Liam looks hopefully at Louis, whose pinched face relaxes into something soft and acquiescent. His hold loosens, and Harry flips him over with a victorious war cry.

“That place on the south end of campus has good tea,” offers Niall, watching Z wander over to paw at Louis’ stomach. He could almost swear the dog is laughing at Louis, who scowls and bats the paw away.

“Or you two could come to ours for a cuppa,” Harry offers, deliberately leaning down to tickle Louis with dangling strands of his hair. Louis pinches at Harry’s nipples in retaliation. “Fucker,” Harry wrinkles his nose at Louis as he rolls out of reach. Turning back to Liam and Niall, he adds, “Our flat’s only 10 minutes’ walk from here.”

“I mean,” Liam looks to Niall for confirmation, “only if you don’t mind. Don’t wanna intrude.”

Harry instantly waves away Liam’s hesitation. He hoists Louis up to his feet and slings an arm across his shoulders. “Me and Lou would love to have you lot. Wouldn’t we?”

Louis eyes Niall disdainfully. “If we must. Ow, watch it, wanker.” He rubs his ribs where Harry’s sharp elbow dug in, but grudgingly mutters, “Well, let’s get a move on. The pup’s getting hungry.”

Z barks in agreement.

* * *

“Nice place you got,” Niall offers politely as he and Liam cautiously cross the threshold.

“Hey,” snaps Louis. He jiggles the crooked door until the hinges click back into place and the door can shut all the way. “Don’t make me add liar to the list of things I don’t like about you.”

Niall throws up his hands in defeat and collapses onto the ratty couch. He notices a suspicious stain and tries to discreetly inch away from it. He winces when Liam unknowingly sits right on it.

Liam scans the tiny kitchenette, the creaking wood floors, the tiny grimy windows. “Could be worse.”

Louis’ face softens like it always does around Liam, and he goes to put a kettle on the stove. “We have sage or jasmine. Liam, which one does Niall dislike more?”  

“Sage probably.” Liam glances at Niall, who nods.

“Sage it is,” grins Louis, snatching a container from the cabinet.

Niall rolls his eyes, figures it’s not worth wasting his breath to argue over Louis’ petty antics. “Zayn lives with you and Harry?”

“He does as a matter of fact.” Harry throws open the small back door that he ushered Z through. “And he’s even graced us with his presence this fine afternoon. The one and only Zayn Malik in the flesh, ladies and gents.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Or, I guess just gents, yeah?”

Niall perks up immediately while Liam shakes his head fondly at Harry’s penchant for dramatics.

Sure enough, Zayn follows Harry in with a shy wave. Niall wonders if he imagines how Zayn’s eyes seem to find his first.

“Zayn!” Niall can’t help but get up to gravitate towards him, can’t help but admire the flex of his inked forearms. Even though they saw each other less than 24 hours ago, it feels like seeing Zayn for the first time again. The breath leaves his lungs in a rush at the sight of Zayn’s tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt.

Louis takes the vacated spot, tucks himself into Liam’s side, and watches Niall critically.

“Z alright?” asks Liam, leaning into Louis with ease. He giggles when Harry plops on his other side, arms reaching for Louis to sandwich Liam between them. The abundance of physical affection is surprising, but not unwelcome.

Zayn starts a little, cocks his head. His brows furrow in confusion. “Uh, yes? I was sneezing earlier, but I think it’s probably just allergies.”

Now Liam frowns while Niall corrects, “No, not you. Z, Harry’s dog. Met ‘im today. Nearly knocked me out. Harry’s just taken him out to eat. Where’d you even find a wolf mix anyway?”

“Ah,” Zayn shares a brief, significant look with Harry and Louis. “Friend of ours breeds dogs,” he explains smoothly. “Gigi offered a good bargain, and the only thing Harry loves more than bargains is dogs.”

“It’s true,” Louis pipes up. “Half of Hazza’s shirts are from those vintage, secondhand type shops.”

Pleased, Harry preens like a cat that got the cream.

“There many of those around here?” Liam asks, genuinely curious because only he could find a way to be earnest about something so mundane.

While Harry sucks in a deep breath to launch into an overly detailed list of every thrift store within a 20 mile radius and Louis lets out an exaggerated sigh of boredom, Zayn leans in to Niall. He says in a low voice, “Hope those two haven’t been too much of a nuisance to you.”

Niall chuckles. “Nah. They’re a bit crazy, but me and Liam can handle crazy. Helps that Louis’ so fond of Liam. Hopefully that means he won’t be trying for a second round anytime soon.”

Zayn purses his lips. “I really am sorry about that. Last night was, er, rough. Usually Harry has a good handle on Lou. We really shouldn’t have been there in the first place with him so testy.”

Niall nudges Zayn with his shoulder. “Glad you were though.”

Zayn’s dark eyes meet his, warm and all encompassing. “Me too.”

They drift closer, the chatter of the other three fading to background noise. Niall could count every one of Zayn’s eyelashes if he wanted, if he wasn’t so distracted by the curve of his lips and the arch of his nose.

Until Louis coughs pointedly and demands, “Tea almost ready?”

Zayn sighs and pulls away, much to Niall’s annoyance. “We’ll check. C’mon.” He taps at Niall’s elbow to get him to follow into the kitchen. They go through the familiar ritual easily—Zayn grabs the pot off the fire, Niall pops in a couple tea bags to steep, Zayn pours when they’re ready, Niall steadies the cups. Niall forgets about his dislike of sage when Zayn hands him a mug and their fingers brush, sending lightning up Niall’s arm. He smiles so hard his eyes crinkle up when Zayn settles into Niall’s side.

The other three wander over to grab their steaming cups and drift apart to fill up empty space in the apartment. Liam slowly makes his rounds to examine the picture frames on the faded walls. Louis returns to the couch to watch. Harry finds a corner to lean up against to fiddle with the flimsy buttons of his shirt. But Zayn stays close to Niall, who revels in the proximity.

“Those yours?” Niall nods towards the black and white charcoal pieces Liam has paused to admire quietly. “You said you were an art major, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Zayn sips at his drink, smooths a finger over the ceramic. “Gave ‘em to Louis and Haz for Christmas gifts. Wouldn’t have done it if I knew they were gonna frame ‘em like they’re my mum or something. Knowing those two, it’s a miracle they’re not on the fridge with a magnet honestly.”

Niall’s chest warms at Zayn’s exasperatedly affectionate tone. It’s comforting to see the way Zayn, Louis, and Harry love each other is so similar to the way Niall and Liam do. It means it’s easy for Niall to look around the living room—at Louis hanging off of Liam’s shoulder, at Harry waggling his eyebrows at him and Zayn—and see how the five of them could mesh so well. It’s not seamless, not by a longshot, but it could be. The potential of more tingles on the pads of Niall’s fingers.

“I have more stuff at my studio if you ever want to come down,” Zayn says, nervously running a hand through his hair. “To see it, I mean.”

Niall drains the last of his mug, sets it down, and rests a hand over Zayn’s wrist. “Thought you’d never ask.”


	3. Full Moon

“Niall. Niall, come look at this.”

“Can it wait, Liam? I’m trying to pick what to wear.” Niall chews his thumbnail and contemplatively eyes the two shirts he’s laid out.

“I know it’s a waste of breath to say Zayn will like whatever you pick, so the blue one brings out your eyes. Now get your arse over here.”

“You didn’t even look,” complains Niall even as he pulls the button down Liam picked over his head. “Now what’s got you in such a right state?” Niall comes out of his room to find Liam hunched over the kitchen counter. He hooks his chin over Liam’s shoulder, wraps a lazy arm around his waist, and peers at the mess of papers scattered over the linoleum. Is that a moon chart? “What’s all this?”

Liam doesn’t answer right away. He just frowns harder.

Niall forgoes telling him that if he isn’t careful he’ll have frown lines at the tender age of 21. Instead, he patiently waits, smooths a thumb over the wrinkle between Liam’s brows.

“So,” Liam finally says. Niall perks up at once. “I know this is gonna sound batshit insane, but I promise I haven’t lost my marbles. Probably.”

Niall snorts into Liam’s temple and peels himself off to go rummage through the fridge. “More insane than that time you tried jumping off the roof because you were convinced you could fly like Superman?”

“I was, like, 5!” Liam protests, turning to look at Niall sniff at a carton of orange juice. He crosses his arms petulantly. “Let it go, would ya?”

Niall takes a swig of the juice after deeming it a bit expired, but not alarmingly so. “Actually,” he swipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “I was talking about last year when I convinced you to stop obsessing over your stupid kidney and we got pissed after finals. Almost was too drunk to pull you down from the roof.”

Liam flushes. “Right, love you for that, Nialler. But the point of this conversation isn’t to relive some of our more questionable life choices.”

“Then get on with the point.”

“I think,” Liam takes a deep breath, looks seriously into Niall’s eyes, “they might be werewolves, Zayn and them.”

Niall guffaws so hard he nearly drops the juice. He wheezes and clutches his stomach. Liam scowls in annoyance and rescues the jug from his shaky grasp to put it safely back in the fridge.

“Oi,” Niall wipes the corners of his eyes, “that’s a good one. You got me, Payno. Nearly thought you were gonna say something seriously important. Thanks for the laugh, though. Got all the nerves out just in time for my date.” He claps Liam on the shoulder.

“This _is_ serious,” Liam argues vehemently. “Niall, I’m not just taking a piss, I’m not. Just hear me out.”

“Fine,” Niall grins, rounding the bar to sit across from Liam. He spreads out his arms expectantly. “Please go ahead and convince me my boyfriend and his mates go howling naked at the moon once a month.”

“Exhibit A,” Liam counts on his fingers, “Z.”

“What about him?”

“Isn’t it weird how when we meet him, Zayn just happens to be missing.”

“Oh come off it,” Niall snorts.

“And,” Liam steamrolls over him, “isn’t it strange how when we get to their flat, Z goes out and Zayn just happens to appear. We never saw Z again that day.”

“Liam, you’re being—”

“ _And then_ ,” Liam slaps his hands on the counter, “Zayn gets confused when I ask about his own dog.”

“Harry’s dog,” Niall corrects pedantically.

“He didn’t know I was talking about Z,” Liam argues. “Who doesn’t know about their own mate’s dog?”

“Their names are uncannily similar. What do you expect?”

“That’s another thing. Who the hell names their dog after their friend?”

“Maybe Harry got Z before he met Zayn,” Niall points out. “We don’t know.”

“Fine. If you’re going to be this stubborn about it. Exhibit B.” Liam slides the calendar they keep pinned against the fridge towards Niall.

Niall lifts one eyebrow as he picks it up. “Uh, you have a dental appointment in two weeks.”

“No, you wanker, look at the moon phases.”

Niall humors Liam and does as he’s told. Every couple weeks, a day’s box will have a tiny picture of a moon accompanied by a phrase like Full Moon, First Quarter, or New Moon. “Okay?” Niall draws out the word to convey his confusion.

“When was the last full moon?” prompts Liam.

Niall studies the calendar. “‘Bout two days ago.”

Liam nods triumphantly. “And what did Harry say when you asked if they wanted to come collect leaf samples for your bio lab that day?”

Now it’s Niall’s turn to frown. “That Louis was sick.” He shakes his head. “No, that doesn’t prove anything. So Louis feels ill on one full moon. That makes them all feckin’ werewolves? This isn’t one of your comics, Liam.”

“I know,” Liam responds evenly. “So when was the full moon before last?”

Niall flips through calendar, still skeptical. “The 10th.”

“Which is the day you commented that Zayn wasn’t in class, and I said I hadn’t seen Louis either and wasn’t that a weird coincidence?”

Niall squints, trying to remember. It was definitely around the same time, but he can’t be sure it was the same exact day. When he tells Liam as much, Liam huffs and says, “Okay, I was going to go through the past couple full moons with you, but if you can’t remember, then it’s useless.”

“Liam, just give it up,” Niall shakes his head. “You’re right, you do sound batshit right now. But because I’m such a good bloke, I won’t turn you into an asylum.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Just keep it in mind. There’s something weird going on. Don’t do anything stupid.” He stands up and walks up to Niall to smooth a hand unnecessarily down his shirt. He fiddles with the collar and runs a hand through Niall’s hair, until Niall bats him away.

“Hey, leave it be! It looks fine.”

“I know,” Liam says fondly, pressing a brief kiss to Niall’s cheek. “Now go on. Tell Zayn I said hi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Niall’s tight hug belies his sarcastic tone.

When the door shuts on Niall’s way out, Liam scratches his nose thoughtfully and returns to his notes. He’s a bit miffed that Niall either can’t remember dates as well as Liam had counted on or is being an obtuse twat on purpose. Liam never even got through the rest of his theory: he and Niall have never seen Harry, Zayn, or Louis on any full moon except one. He thumbs through the calendar and takes a moment to silently thank Maura for the obsolete, if unexpectedly helpful, flat-warming gift. He stops on the first night Niall met the other three. He traces the full moon printed on the page and idly ponders Niall’s story of how wild Louis was that night. Sure, everyone knows Louis can be a loudmouthed motherfucker even at the best of times, but Liam likes to think that his bark is worse than his bite. That night is admittedly an anomaly in Liam’s otherwise somewhat sound speculations—as sound as speculations about lycanthropy can be, in any case.

But before he can dwell on it too much, his phone pings with a text. Liam sees Louis’ name and pushes werewolves and things that go bump in the night to the back of his head.

* * *

“Never been here before,” Niall comments as Zayn opens the door to one of the art buildings for him. “

“Never had an art major friend before?” Zayn guesses. “We basically live here. I’ve known people to hole up here for weeks at a time. But Haz and Louis would kill me if I tried that shit.”

Niall grins and reaches for Zayn’s hand as they meander down the hallway. “I would too. What’s the point of getting a boyfriend if he’s just gonna hide away all the time?”

“Is that—” Zayn licks his lips. “I mean, are we…?”

Niall ducks his head shyly, nibbles on his thumb. “If you want.”

Zayn’s fingers tip Niall’s chin up as he leans in close. “I want.”

Niall’s eyes search Zayn’s, drag over the sharp line of his jaw and the curve of his lips. His palm rests on the side of Zayn’s neck, thumb stroking over his cheek. He shivers when Zayn’s hands find his hips. “Me too.”

Zayn tastes like moonshine and pinewood—a little mysterious, a little wild, and completely intoxicating. Niall gets lost in the softness of his lips, the delicate way his lashes flutter over his cheeks. He pulls Zayn close until they’re flush, like dragging their bodies as close as possible will somehow help him understand why they fit together perfect as puzzle pieces. Zayn’s hands trace unidentifiable patterns in the small of Niall’s back.

They kiss until Niall’s lungs ache for oxygen. Even then, he only pulls back far enough to rest his forehead against Zayn’s. He almost goes cross-eyed trying to keep Zayn in focus. When Zayn huffs out a breathless laugh, Niall can feel it reverberate everywhere they’re touching—from their rapidly rising and falling chests to their tangled legs and nudging toes.

“I think I quite like the art building,” Niall announces, toying with the soft strands of hair at  the back of Zayn’s head.

“Yet you haven’t even seen the actual art yet.” Zayn presses a sweet butterfly kiss to the corner of Niall’s mouth, his cheek, the tip of his nose, and pulls away. “We should remedy that, yeah?”

Niall wants to protest. He wants to reel Zayn back in for a proper snog here in the dingy hallway because he’s no blushing virgin, damn it. But then Zayn’s got his key out and is jiggling the door open to one of the rooms, and Niall loses his train of thought.

“I—wow…” Niall doesn’t remember moving towards the room, so overwhelmed by his curiosity.

Zayn flicks the light on, causing Niall to squint a bit before adjusting.

When Niall thinks of art, his mind fills with rich old people swilling overpriced wine in crystal glasses and making posh remarks about the Mona Lisa. Or something. He doesn’t expect to see nearly floor to ceiling canvases hung up on the walls. Some seem to sag with the sheer volume of colors on them—ecstatic reds clashing with tranquil blues and dotted with regal purple. Some look nearly bare in comparison—black and white shapes outlined in tasteful charcoal strokes that Niall can only dream of making heads or tails of. Each piece has its own vibe, stirs a unique feeling deep in Niall’s gut. But the single common thread between them all is the unobtrusive _zap_ signature scrawled in the bottom right corner.

“Had a study in abstract stuff last semester,” Zayn explains, watching Niall gape at the paintings. “Think my professor nearly had a heart attack when I told him I wanted my final projects to be absolutely massive.”

“Zayn, it’s brilliant,” Niall finally finds the words to say. “All of ‘em. I mean, I’m no art critic or anything, so my word doesn’t mean much. But, I just, yeah.” He’s never been the most eloquent guy, but even if he was, Niall doubts he could find the words needed to describe the warmth in his gut that the pieces incite. He needs someone more poetic-like. He wonders if Harry would be up to the job.

Niall steps closer to peer at one, and Zayn smiles unabashedly at the back of Niall’s neck. “Thanks.”

Zayn opens his mouth to pick Niall’s brain about his own uni endeavors, to reassure Niall that his word means more than he’ll ever know, to quench his seemingly endless thirst for anything Niall, when he hears something. He walks to the doorway and sticks his head out. Zayn puzzles over the empty hallway for a moment before shaking his head and closing the door.

* * *

When Niall gets back to apartment, the lights are off and Liam is nowhere to be found. He closes the door, kicks off his shoes, and heads to the kitchen. No better way to celebrate a successful date than with some leftovers, hopefully with minimal mold. He finds a sticky note on the fridge door: OUT WITH H AND LOU. DON’T WAIT UP.

Niall grins and shakes his head fondly. He knew he wasn’t just imagining the soppy looks Louis directs at Liam when he thinks no one’s looking. Admittedly, Harry was a bit of a surprise, but Niall can see where he would easily fit between Louis’ protective streak and Liam’s earnest mien. A balance exists between the three of them, something that Niall hopes they don’t shy away from.

Niall almost makes it to his room to start the econ paper that’s due in a week, when the manila folder catches his eye. It looks innocent, sitting innocuously on the kitchen counter where Liam had tried to convince Niall about the existence of werewolves.

And the thing is, nothing Liam had said was particularly inaccurate. Which is what freaks Niall out the most if he lets himself examine it too thoroughly.

He glances around surreptitiously to make sure he’s alone. Liam would never let him live it down if he caught Niall perusing. Then he slowly approaches the folder stuffed full of Liam’s papers and research. He flips it open, and right on top is the lunar calendar. Niall licks his lips, heartbeat picking up despite himself because Niall might not remember the precise day Zayn was sick in class but he does remember the night they met at the party.

Niall holds his breath, pages through the calendar until he arrives at the correct month. His eyes linger on the decorative cats playing with yarn on the top page until they drag down to the date he’s looking for. He exhales sharply with relief. A big fat full moon sits in the box. Niall could laugh with how much lighter his shoulders feel. So much for Liam’s stupid theory that Zayn and them have never been out on a full moon.

“Been watching too many of those superhero movies and shite,” Niall mumbles to himself, conveniently forgetting how close he himself had been to believing Liam. He should write a letter to complain to DC. He carefully closes up the folder and wanders back to his room.

Too bad Zayn isn’t a werewolf. Maybe he’d eat Niall’s econ professor if he asked nicely enough.


	4. Cats

Despite debunking Liam’s werewolf hunch once and for all, Niall can’t help but watch Zayn and the others more closely. His mind can’t help but make strange connections that Niall wants to shake off as trivial happenstance.

Niall startles when the friendly stray cat he sees around campus raises its hackles and hisses at Zayn before scampering off. Zayn shrugs apologetically and kisses the corner of Niall’s mouth. “Cats don’t like me much.”

Niall looks up wolf pack behavior despite himself one night. He goes to bed thinking about alpha posturing and beta shows of submission.The next day, he pays close attention to how Zayn, Louis, and Harry act around each other, and his stomach tightens when he observes how Louis’ aggressive body language keep Zayn and Harry in line. Zayn tips his head slightly to bare his neck until Louis calms down and nuzzles it acceptingly. Harry bumbles around them like a pup, carefully watched by the other two.

They’re not just a tight-knit trio; they’re a pack.

Niall’s head is spinning by the time they all split up for the night. Zayn’s lips brush his temple when he asks if Niall is okay. Niall nods automatically, mind racing a million kilometers per hour.

Liam’s lunar cycle is a singular incident. The cat is a coincidence. But the unmistakable pack dynamics is three strikes. It’s a pattern. He wants to shake it off as confirmation bias or something equally logical, but somehow he knows something more is afoot.

When Niall and Liam get back to the flat, Niall blurts out, “I think you’re right,” at the same time Liam says, “I think I’m in love.” They both start and gape. “ _What_?”

Niall shuts the door, needing something to do to distract himself from what he thinks Liam just said. It doesn’t work. “Say again, mate?”

Liam shakes his head. “No, _you_ come again. What am I right about? I love being right.”

Niall makes a face and heads to the kitchen, finicky hands itching to do something. “About the werewolf thing. I can’t stop thinking about it even though it’s some of the dumbest shit that’s ever come out of your mouth.”

Liam nods slowly while Niall fetches their chipped kettle and fills it with water. “Alright. What changed your mind?”

Niall fights with the fussy stove for a moment, then sets a pot on the flame. “Gracie.”

“That stray cat on campus?” Liam blinks in surprise.

“Yeah.” Niall crosses his arms. “She’s the nicest thing. Known her since freshman year, and I’ve never seen her dislike anyone. But she practically tried to claw Zayn’s eyes out the other day.”

Liam mulls this over.

“And,” Niall plows on, nibbling at his thumbnail, “I got to looking up some wolf behavior online. And it kinda matches our friends perfectly.”

“Louis as the alpha,” Liam murmurs without thinking, flashing back to his own forays into how wolf packs function. “He’s easily the most dominant, the most commanding. Harry and Zayn as betas.” He doesn’t have to look at Niall to see his own realization reflected back at him, but Liam does anyway. “Told you it wasn’t just me reading too many _Wolverine_ comics. Probably am overdoing it with the _Batman_ ones, but our friends aren’t bats, so it’s all the same really.”

“Yeah, you can rub it in my face later.” Niall checks on the pot before turning to face Liam again. “But I don’t really want to think about how uni might be driving us mental.” He grins like a madman. “Tell me more about being in _love_ , Li.”

Liam flushes. “Can I plead insanity as a defense?”

“Fuck that,” Niall checks on the water again and tosses a couple tea bags in. “Is it Louis? My money was on him, but I have eyes. I can see the way Harry fancies you and him both.” He winks ridiculously.

Liam scratches the back of his neck. “It’s, ah, yeah. I think I like them both?” It comes out like a question, a bit of a squeak at the end too like Liam’s 14 years old again and just hit puberty.

Niall nods slowly, toying with the two cups he grabbed from the cupboard. “Shame. I wanted Zayn’s 30 quid.”

“Oi! Don’t go betting on my love life.”

Niall smirks when he pours their tea and brings it over to the living room. “Cheers, lover boy.”

“Ta. Cheers.” Liam raises his cup despite himself. He sips it and takes a moment just to savor a easy moment with Niall. So maybe life has gotten a bit more complicated than just trying to get by in classes and ensure Niall doesn’t get too pissed at parties. So what if their three best mates might chew on dog biscuits in their free time? Liam’s got Niall tucking his ice cold toes under Liam’s thigh and a hot cup of tea in his hands. Life could be be a hell of a lot worse.

Outside, Liam thinks he hears some sort of rustling of bushes. He considers getting up to check out the noise. But Niall doesn’t seem to have heard anything, so he chucks the idea. It’s much more appealing to sit on their threadbare sofa and commiserate with Niall about how unfairly fit their friends are.


	5. Senses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

“Nearly a full moon,” Niall comments offhandedly one night when he and Zayn are walking back to Zayn’s flat.

The five of them had spent the evening ice skating at the local rink. Well, Zayn, Harry, and Liam had skated. Louis had clung stubbornly to the wall until Liam and Harry coaxed him out. In other words, Liam had gently coaxed. Harry had taunted Louis and threatened to snog Liam on the ice where Louis couldn’t reach them until Louis had detached himself from the railing and flung himself at Liam. They’d gone down hard on the ice, but Liam didn’t seem to mind cushioning Louis’ fall based on the obscene noises he’d been making as Louis sucked on his tongue with Harry wolf whistling in the background.

And Niall himself had spent more time on his ass on the ice than actually on his feet. But after Zayn generously offered his arm to let Niall coast while Zayn pulled him along, Niall couldn’t find it in him to complain—much.

“Is it?” Zayn looks up at the celestial object in question, lets the light bathe his face in silver.

Niall scrutinizes his face closely, but nothing jumps out at him and screams werewolf. He sighs, wonders if he and Liam should just give it up. They still haven’t found anything concrete, just vague signs here and there that could as easily be written off by a skeptic as taken to heart by a believer. Niall still doesn’t know which category he falls under.

Every time Liam bakes gingersnaps, Harry seems to perk up and know before he even gets to their front step. He swears he can smell them even though Niall never notices until he opens the door.

“I have a baker’s nose, Nialler,” Harry insists, tapping said nose with a finger while Niall rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

One time, Niall sat down in Myth, realized he’d forgotten a pen, and muttered an annoyed curse under his breath about it. Not thirty seconds later, Zayn had shown up, nearly late as usual, and tossed a pen at him.

Niall snatched it out of the air and pulled a perplexed look. “How’d you know I needed one?”

Zayn froze for a split second, so quick Niall almost thought he’d imagined it. “Uh, you didn’t have one out. And you’re typically the first person ready to take notes, yeah?”

Niall had let it go at the time, but he still can’t shake the feeling that he and Liam are missing the big picture. He constantly feels one or two steps behind. It niggles at the back of his mind, itches in the tips of fingers until Zayn twines their hands together or bruises Niall’s lips with a kiss.

“Tomorrow’s the actual full moon, I think,” Niall says now. “I only know because Liam’s got one of those calendars that shows the lunar phases.” They continue to slowly walk, alone together since Liam, Harry, and Louis agreed to spend the night at Liam and Niall’s place. Niall’s palms tingle with anticipation when he thinks about why the five of them would’ve agreed to split up for the night. It’s not like they haven’t all crashed together before. But tonight feels different, charged with a heavy sort of energy. Niall squeezes Zayn’s hand.

Zayn hums. “I took an astronomy class once. Loads more maths than floating rocks in space have the right to require.” He moves to unlock the door, freezes with the key in the lock. He lifts his head and sweeps a critical gaze around them.

“Zayn?” Niall glances around, but nothing seems amiss for a Saturday night. A couple walks through pools of streetlight across the road. A car sits patiently at a red light at the far end of the block. The lights and telephone wires buzz faintly. Out of the corner of his eye, Niall might see Zayn’s eyes glint gold.

“It’s nothing,” Zayn says after a tense moment, shaking his head. “C’mon, it’s cold.”

Niall shrugs off his coat as he enters and tugs off his boots. He’s barely unwound his scarf and thrown it on the couch before Zayn is on him, hands gripping Niall’s jaw and lean body shoving Niall up against the door.

Niall moans even as his back stings on impact. His hands find Zayn’s hips automatically, dragging him closer. Zayn’s lips taste arctic at first, still cool from the air outside. But they soon melt into something honey-sweet and addictive against Niall’s mouth, something he could drown in. Frantic heat replaces the unseasonal spring chill. The kiss turns hot and dirty so fast Niall’s head spins.

Zayn pants against his ear, nibbles at his earlobe as he shoves the hem of Niall’s shirt up. “Get this off, yeah?”

Niall grins and obediently yanks the top over his head. Zayn’s on him in an instant, scraping his teeth against Niall’s pulse until Niall shivers. His mischievous tongue swipes at Niall’s collarbone, slender fingers running over Niall’s ribs.

“Bed?” Niall suggests, mouth slack and throat dry like he’s just ran a marathon. Not that even a marathon could have his legs as shaky as Zayn’s hands gripping his thighs or Zayn’s big brown eyes gazing up at Niall through his lashes as he sinks gracefully to his knees.

Zayn hungrily eyes the bulge in Niall’s jeans, bites his bottom lip, and promises, “In a minute.”

Niall’s breath hitches when Zayn glacially unbuttons his jeans and slides down the zipper. “Maybe less than that,” he warns shakily when Zayn mouths at the wet spot on his pants before peeling them off too.

Zayn kisses Niall’s hipbone reassuringly and guides one of Niall’s hands from where it flexes helplessly against the door to his hair. “Be gentle?” he asks in a soft voice, like Niall isn’t so far gone on him that he can’t do anything except what Zayn tells him to.

Niall nods and lovingly combs through Zayn’s hair. His fingers stutter when Zayn laps at the head of his cock, kisses a vein running along the side. He can’t help but tug lightly and groan when Zayn finally slips the whole thing into the wet heat of his mouth. Zayn moans appreciatively when Niall’s hips don’t jerk forward to choke him. He bobs his head and pets Niall’s exposed thigh where his jeans are pulled down.

Niall’s head thunks loudly back against the door. But it’s too late to erase the captivating sight of Zayn’s pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock, the slant of cheekbones as he hollows his cheeks. Niall squeezes his eyes shut, but that can’t block out the sloppy noises Zayn makes or the frisson of desire that sparks up Niall’s spine when Zayn pulls off to nip at his inner thigh.

“Close?” Zayn’s voice sounds raw and thoroughly fucked out. He swipes at his shiny mouth with the back of his hand.

Niall nods weakly and dares to open his eyes to gaze down. He can’t even find it in him to be annoyed at Zayn’s smug expression because he’s so caught up in trying to even out his ragged breathing.

“Good. My jaw kinda hurts,” is all the notice Niall gets before Zayn’s lips find the slick head of his dick again.

Niall’s stomach tenses when Zayn does something with his tongue that makes Niall see stars. Niall’s hand migrates from Zayn’s bobbing head to brace against Zayn’s shoulder. Everything is too much—the hum of Zayn’s mouth, the wet press of his tongue, the obscene sounds—and not enough all at once. Niall can feel warmth building low in his stomach, curling sweetly with anticipation. Sweat trickles down his neck. Niall can’t pull enough oxygen into his lungs.

Then Zayn’s hand wraps around the bit of Niall’s dick he can’t quite fit into his mouth, squeezes with just enough pressure. And Niall’s done. He gasps and grips Zayn’s shoulder in warning just before he comes.

Zayn swallows as best he can, but a bit dribbles from the corner of his mouth. He wipes it away as he rises and catches Niall’s slack mouth in a dirty kiss. Niall’s helpless to do anything but taste himself bitter on Zayn’s tongue, get lost in Zayn’s demanding lips. His thighs tremble, but Zayn holds his hips steady and grinds forward so Niall can feel him through his jeans.

“Bed now?” Niall tries again, winded.

Zayn nips at his neck. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The short trip to Zayn’s shared room with Louis is punctuated by stolen kisses beside Zayn’s framed charcoal sketches and brief pauses to squirm out of clothing. When they finally throw open the door to the bedroom, they’re both naked and giggling.

Niall relishes the feeling of their skin brushing unhampered by shirts or denim. Every touch feels electric, lights up his nerves.

When Zayn leans over him on the bed, Niall takes a moment to catch his breath. Moonlight streams through the crack in the drapes to pour silkily over Zayn’s tattoos, either bathing them in creamy light or draping them in shadow. Niall doesn’t have much time to focus on any except the elegant Arabic script scrawled over a collarbone before Zayn sucks a fierce lovebite onto Niall’s neck.

“Ah, fuck,” Niall hisses, hand automatically coming up to cup the back of his head and tangle in his hair.

“That’s the idea, babe,” Zayn smirks against Niall’s shoulder.

Niall kicks at him and laughs. “Cheeky fucker.”

Zayn hides a smile into Niall’s chest, hand resting lightly on Niall’s shoulder.

They pause like that, Zayn feeling Niall’s every breath and Niall being anchored by Zayn’s comforting weight. The frenzied desire lulls into something intimate and fragile, a moment they might never find again if they hurry past it. So they don’t. Zayn whispers, “You look gorgeous like this,” into Niall’s stomach; Niall brushes soft strands of hair off Zayn’s damp forehead with trembling fingers. Their heartbeats seem to sync up for a moment.

Then the moonbeam sprawled across Zayn’s shoulder blades shifts minutely, and the moment flits away, content.

Zayn lazily continues trailing sloppy kisses down Niall’s torso, thumbs at Niall’s nipples until he’s arching off the bed. Niall plants his feet on the bed, bends his knees to cant his hips up impatiently. Zayn meticulously worries a bruise into the crease of Niall’s thigh and proceeds to soothe it with his tongue. Niall fists the sheets in one hand and spreads his legs wider to accommodate Zayn’s shoulders.

“There’s lube and condoms in the drawer,” Zayn nods towards it after he presses a kiss to Niall’s knee.

“Not gonna get it for me? A proper gentleman, you are,” Niall grunts, rolling on his side and stretching out an arm to open and rummage around in the drawer. “Why’ve you got so much shit in here, Zayner? Can’t find a feckin’ thing—aha!” He flings the bottle of lube a couple condoms at Zayn with a successful noise.

Zayn pinches Niall’s ass in retaliation for the foil packets hitting his face.

Niall jerks, but laughs a deep belly laugh anyway.

Zayn lets the warm sound wash over him, settle in his bones, and he knows he could spend the rest of his life listening to that sound. To distract himself from letting slip something stupid like, “I love you,” Zayn tucks a pillow under Niall’s hips. Then he drizzles lube onto his fingers and lets them rest against Niall.

Niall’s eyes slip shut. His breathing stutters when Zayn gently pushes one finger in.

“Okay, love?” Zayn prompts, stroking at Niall’s inner thigh.

“I—yeah.” Niall shifts restlessly, takes a breath. “More.”

Zayn can’t deny Niall much on a good day, much less when Niall’s sprawled out on his sheets begging to be fucked. Zayn hooks one of Niall’s legs over his shoulder and presses in another finger, smirking into Niall’s calf when Niall keens.

Niall curses and squirms back against Zayn’s fingers, chasing the slick way they press into him.

Zayn watches the flush creep from Niall’s cheeks down to his chest, a lovely red to match his lips that he bites every time Zayn twists his wrist just right. It’s mesmerizing to experiment with his fingers and watch Niall’s reactions. What makes him sigh and sink into the mattress. What makes his mouth fall open. What makes him grasp desperately at the sheets and roll his hips. Zayn could spend hours taking Niall apart.

“Okay, okay, fuck,” Niall gasps out, “Zayn’re you ever gonna fuck me or do I have to do that myself too?”

“In time,” promises Zayn, wrapping a hand around Niall’s dick to hear the pretty noises that elicits. But he’s a man of his word, so Zayn quickly pulls his fingers out of the tight heat of Niall’s body to pat around for one of the condoms laying on the duvet. He regretfully has to let go of Niall’s dick to unwrap and roll it on, but Niall doesn’t have much time to miss the hot grip of his hand before Zayn’s lining up.

“‘Bout fucking time,” Niall grouses in a languid, breathless voice. “Oh, that’s good,” punches out of him when Zayn shifts forward. Niall hooks his legs around Zayn’s thighs to pull him in. He sighs happily when his hips are flush to Niall’s ass, like he can’t imagine anything more satisfying.

Zayn can’t resist leaning down to pepper Niall’s flushed face with kisses. He tastes the sweat from Niall’s forehead before chasing it with the sweetness of his lips. The harsh, feverish crash of their mouths has Zayn’s arms trembling where they’re propping him up.

Niall finds the first slow thrust of Zayn’s dick at odds with the frenetic energy he knows hides under Zayn’s skin. Most days, Zayn is all tightly controlled power coiled within human skin. Niall can see it in the twitch of his fingers and the sharpness of his eyes, which is why Niall pretty much expected to get dicked down into the mattress the minute Zayn got into his pants.

But Niall decides, when he has enough working brain cells to formulate a coherent thought, that he quite likes this languorous style of fucking Zayn seems to favor. He moans when Zayn adjusts himself on his knees to change the angle and drag against something that sends lightning spiralling through Niall’s veins. He rolls his hips to meet Zayn’s at the counterpoint, stomach tight and thighs flexing. He runs reverent hands along the swirling ink that jumps with Zayn’s muscles. He steadies himself with a tight grip on Zayn’s shoulders when he feels like he’s going to shake apart. He drags Zayn down for a heady kiss that dissolves into little more than panting into each other’s mouth as their noses brush.

Niall can feel when Zayn is close. His hips start to stutter, the steady rhythm faltering, the control slipping. “C’mon,” Niall urges, squeezing around Zayn to hear him swear. “C’mon.” He wraps a shaky hand around his own dick as Zayn starts to pick up the pace, fucking into him hard enough that Niall starts to slide up the sheets a bit.

Zayn’s teeth find Niall’s neck; his fingers find bruising purchase on Niall’s hips. The wet, obscene noise of their skin slapping together mingles with Niall’s escalating moans and Zayn’s harsh breathing.

Niall is overwhelmed by the stretch of Zayn’s dick, the hot pant of his breath against Niall’s collarbone, the searing kiss he smears off-center against Niall’s lips. Everything is on a steep incline, and Niall doesn’t know if he’s more exhilarated or terrified to reach the top.

He doesn’t have time to decide because soon Zayn buries his face into Niall’s neck and groans out Niall’s name like a prayer. His hips twitch and grind in close when he comes.

Niall twists his wrist just the way he likes, thumbs his slit, and he’s gone too with a low grunted out, “Fuck, Zayn.” Come dribbles messily down his wrist onto his heaving stomach. Niall’s eyes flutter precariously, exhaustion washing over him on the heels of his orgasm.

Zayn presses a quick kiss to Niall’s chin before gingerly pulling out.

“Zayn?” Niall mumbles when he feels the mattress shift and Zayn’s warmth disappear.

“Be right back, love,” Zayn calls from somewhere Niall doesn’t bother to open his eyes to see. The bed dips again and a pleasantly warm flannel mops up the tacky come drying on Niall’s stomach. “I’m here.”

Niall hums contentedly when Zayn’s fingers comb soothingly through his damp hair, trace the soft skin under his eyes. It feels so good he doesn’t even grumble much when he has to get up so they can peel back the comforter to slip under.

“What happened to your knee?”

Niall blinks slowly at the top of Zayn’s head, the only bit he can see with Zayn tucking himself firmly under Niall’s chin.

“The scar,” Zayn clarifies. The blankets rasp when he shuffles about to find a more comfortable position. “You don’t have to say. I just saw it earlier and was wondering.”

Niall yawns and amusedly says, “And y’thought the best time to get a sound answer was after you’d fucked my brains out?”

Zayn peers up at Niall with a smirk. “Well, I couldn’t very well do so _while_ I was fucking your brains out.”

“Ha ha.” Niall unconsciously bends the knee in question without thinking. The almost phantom stiffness, the barely audible crackle of bone, the faint tingle he feels when the damaged nerves rub against the sheets are normal at this point. He fights the instinct to reach down and run a finger along the scar. It’s not a disability or an injury anymore; it’s just another part of his body, his bum knee is. “It’s from a football mishap I had as a kid. Got surgery for a floating knee cap, I think they called it. Aches a bit if it rains or I overdo it on the treadmill or something, but it’s healed up real nice now.”

Zayn nods, face screwed up like he’s concentrating too hard for someone who just got shagged. Niall tells him so, smoothes a kiss over the wrinkle in his forehead. “Go to sleep.”

And Zayn does. He breathes in the comforting scent of Niall body wash and closes his eyes.


	6. Hunters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with minor violence and stuff, so be warned.

Zayn wakes up earlier than he should considering there’s a cute boy snoring away in his bed that he’s only just finished fucking a few hours ago. Niall’s got a lazy arm thrown over Zayn’s waist. His face is utterly relaxed and sated, limned in barest hints of fading starlight. His heart beats slow and sure in Zayn’s ear. There’s nothing Zayn would love more than to laze about like nothing outside this room matters, to sleep in until a reasonable hour, to trade disgusting morning breath kisses with Niall, to tangle their hands together while Niall fucks him so hard Zayn can’t walk properly.

But Zayn can’t do any of that with the uneasiness prickling in his stomach.

Sighing at his own paranoia, he carefully extricates himself from Niall’s loose grasp. He grabs a pair of pants and jeans to wiggle into. He throws on Niall’s shirt from yesterday because it’s the closest article of clothing, not because he wants to smell Niall all the time.

But if he tucks his nose against the collar of the shirt anyway, that’s no one’s business except his own.

Zayn creeps out of his room and pads down the hallway. He never thought he’d find his own home eerie, but the utter silence might be changing his mind. Zayn’s been home alone before, of course, but he’s never looked over his shoulder so many times or seen flickering shadows in the corner of his vision. Unnerved, he walks quickly to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee even though it’ll be stone cold by the time Niall gets up. It gurgles happily, and Zayn relaxes the tiniest fraction at the calming sound. He pokes around the living room, peers out the kitchen window to see if he can’t discover what’s got him so on edge.

When he can’t find anything straight away, Zayn’s still too antsy to return to bed. He decides to tackle the cluttered living room for a lack of anything better to do. He learned long ago that living with Louis is like living with a tornado.

He starts divvying up the assorted junk strewn everywhere into piles depending on who it belongs to. Harry’s scarves get thrown into a corner, Louis’ jerseys into another. He soon adds a fourth heap for clothes that he’s seen all three of them wear so many times that he forgot whose they were originally. He contemplates making a fifth for Niall’s snapbacks and Liam’s jumpers that turn up unexpectedly, but Zayn figures he can just toss them in his and Louis’ piles respectively. They’ll find their way back to the right person eventually. Hopefully it’s all relatively clean because he really doesn’t feel like turning his morning after with Niall into an impromptu laundry day.

The coffee smell starts to waft throughout the apartment. Zayn has just spent 3 minutes deliberating whether a pair of pants are his or Louis’ when he hears it: a distinct thump that can’t be a part of his sex-addled, sleep-deprived imagination. Zayn bolts to the front door and peers out the peephole. He doesn’t see anything and cracks it open cautiously. Despite the gloomy fog, he still zeros in on the dark, hooded figure speed walking away from the apartment a couple houses down.

“Hey!”

The person breaks into a run.

Zayn curses, looks around to make sure no one else is out and about at this ungodly hour, and takes off after them.

* * *

Niall knows he shouldn’t be disappointed. He’s had far, far worse morning afters—hungover as hell in a place he doesn’t remember with a stranger whose face he doesn’t recognize. Liam can attest to it after all the times Niall’s called him for help. Just because Zayn isn’t in bed when Niall stirs, just because Niall reaches out an expectant arm and finds the space next to him tepid, just because Niall’s eyes jump open to confirm his sinking suspicions doesn’t mean the end of the world.

Once Niall has swallowed down the initial sting and slumped down in the too cold, too empty bed, he smells the coffee. Brightening, he throws off the sheets. He steals a clean pair of pants and joggers from Zayn’s dresser and heads to the kitchen. Zayn isn’t some asshole Niall decided to shag on a drunken whim. Zayn will be waiting for Niall at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee offered as an apology, or he’ll be dozing on the couch with steam curling around his face because he sat down just for a second and fell asleep on his way back to Niall. Bolstered by these thoughts, Niall cheerily stops by the washroom to splash water on his face. He smiles privately at the mirror reflection of the dark bruises blooming on his neck. He’s already itching to see Zayn’s stupid face.

Except Zayn’s stupid face isn’t anywhere to be found. Niall makes a beeline for the coffeemaker, but frowns when he realizes the liquid’s gone cold. The pot itself isn’t even warm when Niall touches it. And all the lights are still off, leaving the apartment in dreary darkness. Niall notices there isn’t even muted sunlight seeping in from outside. It’s truly a wonder Niall hasn’t tripped over anything yet considering the scattered mounds of clothes that he swears weren’t present last night.

“Zayn?” Niall calls out, feeling inexplicably abandoned. Inexplicable because Zayn would never ditch Niall without warning like this, not after spending the past several months telling Niall how much he likes his big guffawing laugh and the dark roots peeking out under his blonde hair.

Maybe he had to run out and left a note. Yes, Niall decides, clinging that rationale. He reckons that has to be it. He scours the apartment top to bottom looking, a little desperately, for a brightly colored sticky note or Zayn’s familiar handwriting.

When he comes up empty handed, Niall checks the stove clock and almost does a double take at the neon red 5.03 blinking back at him. He knew it was early, but damn. The coffee’s temperature means Zayn was up at arse o’clock in the morning to brew it. It’s too early for class or for Zayn “sleeps like the dead” Malik to have scheduled anything. Even Harry, the Godforsaken morning dove, doesn’t get up for another hour at least for hot yoga or whatever trendy juice cleanse he’s on about.

Puzzled, Niall returns to the bedroom to root around for his phone. Yanking it out of his jeans pocket, he plugs it in to alleviate the cautionary yellow battery percentage and unlocks it. There’s nothing from Zayn, but there is a peculiar **Neil is Zayn w/u?** from Louis about 30 minutes ago. What the hell is Louis doing up at this hour?

Niall types back, **No** , and taps to find Zayn’s number. He paces nervously while it rings and dislodges the charger while he’s at it. Niall runs a hand through his hair and tries to get his sluggish mind to generate any viable reason for Zayn to mysteriously disappear at 5 in the morning. He comes up empty.

The phone rings and rings and rings. It finally beeps to voicemail.

“Zayner,” Niall chews his bottom lip, “I know you’re probably just out for something quick, but can you call me? And Louis. We’re kinda freaking out here, mate. Uh, thanks, bye.” He sighs at how needy he sounded, but the troubled twist of his gut tells him he did the right thing. Until Niall spots the bright LCD screen out of the corner of his eye. His heart sinks to his toes when he grabs it off the floor, half hidden by the duvet they kicked off in their sleep. Sure enough it’s Zayn’s phone with a missed call from Niall floating to the surface of the lock screen.

 **Zayn left his phone here. Somethings wrong.** Niall barely sends off the text when his phone starts buzzing with an incoming call.

“Tommo.” Niall’s almost lighthearted with relief, even though he still doesn’t know why Zayn’s vanishing act has got him so panicky. “Tommo, Zayn—”

“It’s me,” Harry interrupts, more alert than it has any right to be this early in the morning. “Louis’ on his way over. Wait for him. Don’t go out on your own.”

Niall takes comfort in the sound of his voice, cradles the phone closer to his ear. “Okay, okay. What the hell is happening, Haz?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admits. Niall can almost imagine him squinting pensively and running a hand through unruly curls. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“We always do,” Niall agrees, chest feeling lighter already. “Is Liam with you? Is he okay?”

“Yes,” Harry assures him. “He’s still asleep. When he gets there, Louis’ll bring you back to us at your place. Then we’ll go find Zayn.” He pauses here for a moment. When he resumes, he speaks slowly like he’s picking his words carefully. “There’s something we have to tell you and Liam. It’s… It might have something to do with this. We—”

A thunderous banging at the front door shatters the quiet and cuts Harry off. “Police! Open up!” shouts a brusque voice. Niall nearly drops the phone in shock, heart leaping to his throat.

“Shit. What the fuck,” Niall hisses after he saves it from shattering on the floor. “Haz, there’s cops here.”

He tiptoes towards the hall, but stops dead when Harry snaps, “Don’t get it, Niall. They aren’t police.” Niall has never heard Harry’s voice sound like that—sharp and commanding. Not that Niall would’ve thought about disobeying Harry anyway, but Niall reckons he couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“This is your last warning or else we’re breaking the door down! We know you’re in there.”

“Harry!” Niall whisper shouts, slamming the bedroom door shut, locking it, and shrinking to the far corner like a handful of feet of extra space is going to do anything. “They’re coming in!”

“Hold tight,” Harry says firmly. “Louis’ almost there.”

Niall blanches when he hears the unmistakable bang of the front lock breaking and the door crashing open. His heart beats frantically in his chest, loud enough that Niall wouldn’t be surprised if it led them right to him.

A cold, taunting voice sing-songs, “Wolf boy, come out, come out wherever you are.” The deafening cocking of a firearm sounds nearly as loud as Niall’s panicky breathing. “You can bring your boyfriend too.”

Niall’s so focused on the sweeping light of a torch underneath the bedroom door creeping closer and closer that he doesn’t notice the shadow outside the window until it’s struggling with the sticky sliding frame.

“L-Louis!” Niall could cry with relief. He leaps up to help yank at the stubborn window.

“We—fuck!—need to get out of here,” Louis pants like he sprinted all the way from Niall and Liam’s flat. Based on the harried look in his eyes, the sweaty sheen on his forehead, Niall wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happened. “Fuck this bloody window! Will it bloody open already?”

Niall hefts his shoulder into it, feels the glass give a couple more crucial inches.

“C’mon, just squeeze through.” Louis anxiously eyes the door and moves aside so Niall can grip the sill and scramble up. “They’ll be here any second. It’s not safe. Niall!”

Just as Niall crams his shoulders through the narrow opening, the locked bedroom doorknob jiggles. Louis grabs Niall around the chest and jerks with all his might. Niall’s hips and legs slide through a split second before the door smashes open. Gunfire rings out, louder than anything Niall’s ever heard.

Louis throws himself over Niall, curling protectively over him. The window shatters into a thousand razor sharp glass shards that rain down on them. Louis shakes them off, eyes blazing gold, and hauls Niall to his feet.

“Run!”

Niall doesn’t have to be told twice.

They sprint down the street, feet pounding too loudly on the pavement for the sleepy neighborhood. Glass remnants fall off of Louis in a sparkling glitter trail. Niall winces when he feels a piece cut into his bare foot, but doesn’t break his stride.

“There they are!”

Louis whips around the city block, Niall hot on his heels.

“They’re getting away!”

Louis vaults over someone’s fence to cut across the yard and slip through a hole in the chainlink at the far side. They come out in a grimy looking alley. A fat raccoon takes one look at them before scurrying off.

“They’re headed back to the other two! Cut them off!”

Louis swears and takes a left, in the opposite direction of campus and thus Niall’s flat. Niall’s foot is on fire now. A burgeoning stitch stabs between his ribs, but he knows better than to slow down. He barely has the energy to process his hurts with how Louis races through the winding, dumpster-lined alleys. Niall clambers up a rusty fire-escape after him, swearing when the rusty metal creaks ominously. They duck behind parked cars and sneak into an unlocked garage. Niall tries to even out his loud breathing as their pursuers run by. Louis silently watches their feet through the sliver of space between the garage door and the ground. Before Niall can catch his breath and maybe ask what the hell is going on, Louis hauls the door open and beckons Niall onward. So Niall swallows the million questions poised on the tip of his parched tongue and soldiers onward.

At first the adrenaline is enough to keep Niall’s muscles pumping, keep his foot from aching anything too terrible. But the longer it drags on, the more Niall can feel the dawn chill seeping into his skin. His head spins like he’s done the worst kegstand in his life. Oxygen tastes like needles in his throat and burns his lungs when it goes down.

“Louis,” Niall finally gasps out with what little air he can spare. “Louis, I can’t run forever.”

Louis leans back from where he’s peering out from the safety of their current brick alley. The hard lines of his face soften at the pathetic sight of Niall limping after him, favoring his bleeding foot. Bright red lacerations litter his shirtless chest and shoulders from the rosebush they had to scramble under. His elbow drips blood onto the ground from where he scraped it against cement after tripping over a curb.

For the first time since Niall has seen him this morning, Louis seems to lose some of his manic, hyperfocused energy. His preternatural gold eyes fade to a familiar blue.

“ _Niall_.” Louis’ voice sounds pained. He quickly shrugs off his hoodie and drapes it across Niall’s shivering shoulders. He slides off his Vans too after a guilty glance at Niall’s bloody, gravel-worn feet. Then he gingerly wraps Niall up in as tight a hug as Niall can manage without flinching. “Fucking idiot, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Niall’s raw throat coughs up an ugly laugh. Trust Louis to somehow turn this whole mess on him. “Bit difficult to speak up when we’ve been gunning it nonstop, innit?”

Louis ignores his question in favor of whispering in a suspiciously choked up voice, “Glad you’re not dead or sommat. Nearly thought we’d lost you.”

Niall clutches at him desperately, breathes in Louis’ comforting smell of sweat and cigarette smoke. He squeezes his eyes shut and attempts not to worry about Zayn too much. “Thanks. For coming to get me.”

Louis grips the back of Niall’s jacket tightly. “Always. Niall, we’d never leave you behind. You’re one of us.”

Niall rests his forehead on Louis’ shoulder. He lets his eyes stay shut, exhales shakily. Here in Louis’ arms, he can almost pretend that this nightmare is going to be over soon. That they’re going to walk home like they just came from class, find Zayn and Harry and Liam on the couch or lounging on someone’s bed, and Niall can forget about the men with Goddamn guns ransacking Zayn’s apartment.

“We’re almost somewhere safe,” Louis promises into Niall’s neck. “Just a few more blocks.”

“Tommo, what’s going on? Who are those people? Where’s Zayn?”

“Not here. Not yet. I’ll explain everything when we get to the safehouse.” Louis rubs a comforting thumb over Niall’s cheek, pecks his forehead, and pulls away.

And Niall has to accept that. Not that he has any other choice. He’s not keen on the idea of walking, but the shoes help. Not to mention Louis resumes their trek at a much more manageable pace. However, despite good intentions, he’s Louis, which means he quickly grows impatient with Niall’s snail-like hobble.

Niall can’t help it; his swollen foot feels tight in the shoes even though Louis is half a size bigger than him and can barely take any weight. It doesn’t help that his bum knee has started to ache as well, making each step either a sharp pain in his sole or a dull throb from his knee. Louis fretfully alternates between hovering over Niall and jogging ahead to make sure the coast is clear.

“Nearly there,” Louis says distractedly. “C’mon, just a couple more blocks and we’re home free. Harry’s got a place we can camp out in to plan our next—Niall!”

Niall’s starting to get real tired of Louis yelling his name like that because everytime it happens, everything goes to shit. He feels the heavy body slam into his side and easily bowl him over, wrenching his unsteady leg the wrong way. Niall feels more than hears the ungodly pop.

By the time Niall hits the ground hard, his knee is on fire. The white hot pain snatches his breath away, and Niall doesn’t even give a fuck about how a cruel hand is yanking his hair to shove his cheek into the gravel or the cool metal barrel knocking against his temple. He thinks he should care about the rough voice above him ordering, “On your knees, wolf. Hands up,” but he’s not even sure why. All he knows for those couple seconds is that he wants someone to chop his damn leg off so the pain will end.

Niall writhes a little in a vain attempt to alleviate the fiery nails some bastard’s pounded into his kneecap and forgotten to take out. But the person pinning him down jerks Niall’s head and snaps, “Stop moving.”

Niall puffs out a couple short breaths, grits his teeth, and obeys. His dazed eyes slowly open. He sees Louis shoved chest-first onto the ground, surrounded by three armed people covered head to toe in black military-esque equipment. They look like they belong in Afghanistan or some shit, not in a sleepy college town that overcharges rent for shitty flats. They tie Louis’ hands together behind his back with clinking silver chains, which Niall thinks as peculiar. Wouldn’t those plastic zipties be just as effective and easier to carry about?

“Niall,” Louis calls out, face pale with relief when he makes eye contact with Niall. “Niall, don’t fight them, yeah? Everything’ll be okay.” He grunts when his captors yank him up, bares teeth that might look too sharp if Niall’s vision wasn’t swimming.

“Watch it or we might muzzle you like the beast you are,” spits one of the men, jabbing the butt of his rifle into Louis’ side.

“You, up too.” Niall whimpers when he gets hauled up. He staggers wildly, left leg completely useless to take his weight. He grabs desperately at the nearest person for support. “What the fuck is wrong with this one?” He shakes off Niall, who falls flat to the ground and bites the inside of his cheek until the blood comes when it jostles his knee. “Is this because the full moon’s tonight?”

“Niall?” Louis’ panicked voice sounds miles away. “Niall, keep your eyes open, damn it!”

Some fucker has attached weights to his eyelids, but the sheer terror in Louis’ voice keeps Niall blinking valiantly to stay awake. He stares blankly at the unfamiliar face peering down at his, black bandana pulled up to his nose and dark beanie pulled low to his eyebrows so Niall can only see cold eyes.

“Looks half dead, boss. Maybe we should just finish it here.”

“We’re gonna kill them all anyway. Does it matter if it’s here?” chimes in a second voice.

Louis’ chains clank angrily. “Don’t fucking touch him! If you lay a single bloody finger on him, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” sneers the bloke holding the end of Louis’ chain. He yanks it cruelly to watch Louis trip to his knees. “Tear our faces off? Not likely, you rabid dog.”

Louis chuckles lightly. He slowly raises his head to meet the man’s eyes. His voice is colder than ice and deathly quiet, but somehow still carries to everyone in the vicinity,  “I won’t, but he will.”

A low, blood-curdling snarl echoes through the alley. It raises the hair on the back of Niall’s neck. It makes him think of every storybook monster his ma ever told him about to ensure young Niall ate his vegetables and went to bed on time.

“Fuck.” The man leaning over Niall scrabbles for his gun, but those precious seconds cost him dearly. A massive brown blur tackles him to the ground with a thud, knocking away the firearm. He doesn’t even have time to yell before his throat bursts crimson, claw marks spewing blood.

Niall recoils when the warm liquid splatters onto him, jerking upright and scooting as fast from the body as possible.

The creature doesn’t linger over the body, but launches itself at the closest of the three guarding Louis. This man is slightly more prepared than his unfortunate mate. He reels on impact, but stays upright despite the hulking wolf towering over him. It’s got a paw planted on each of the man’s shoulders, claws digging into the tough Kevlar padding. The only thing preventing the gleaming fangs from chomping on the man’s face is the rifle wedged between them, giving just enough space that the wolf can’t quite reach.

Louis takes advantage of his own mark’s distraction to wrench his chained hands as hard as he can. The man stumbles and lets go of the chain tail with a hiss. Louis sends him flying to the ground with a well-aimed kick. The gun skitters out of reach.

Niall tries not to look at the wide open, glazed eyes of the dead man only a couple feet away. Then movement at the corner of his vision catches his attention. Niall looks over his shoulder just in time to see a dark shadow slinking away.

“Damn beast. Hold it still, Eric.” Niall whips back around to see the last man aiming his gun at the huge wolf where it wrestles with Eric.

“No!” Niall lunges at the gunman’s legs, knocking him off balance at the last second. His shot goes awry, but the wolf still yelps in pain. Eric easily shoves it back to all fours with a victorious shout. Blood pours from its shoulder.

“Harry!” Louis yells.

 _Harry?_ Niall blinks dazedly.

The wolf curls its lip and darts in, taking advantage of the close quarters that prevent Eric from using his gun effectively to rip into the man’s hamstring. He goes down with a howl of pain. Harry pounces with a snarl, but a shot rings out. Harry yelps. Eric grapples and throws off Harry, who rolls limply away with a fresh bullet wound leaking from his stomach. Eric readjusts his grip on the small pistol he’d drawn.

Niall wills the wolf to get up, to move, to breathe just so he can see the rise and fall of his chest. He doesn’t.

Louis leaps away from his opponent, warily eyeing the knife he’s pulled out. He struggles ineffectually with the chain still holding his wrists. He grimaces when the metal holds fast.

“You little shit.” For the second time that day, Niall has a gun placed far too closely to his brain for comfort. This time around, he doesn’t have much time to get too worked up over possibly dying. Niall has time to see his parents’ faces flash before his eyes, to hope his student debt gets forgiven in the event of his untimely death, to pray Zayn is somewhere safe. His knee throbs like a bitch. He can almost hear the infinitesimal shift of the man’s grip as he tightens on the trigger. But the bullet never comes, nor the burning smell of gunsmoke coupled with the deafening bang.

Instead, Niall blinks and nearly misses the body that crashes into the man like a battering ram. The two go flying—Niall’s would-be killer in one direction, and the new person in another. Niall exhales sharply, heart pounding and chest feeling like it’s caving in.

“Fuck, how many of you brats are there?” snarls the man, pushing himself up. His handgun flicks back and forth between Niall and the newcomer.

Niall’s racing pulse stops dead when he squints and recognizes the boy groaning and rolling to his feet. “ _Liam_?”

Liam staggers upright, seemingly still a bit stunned from his spectacular fall. But he quickly shakes it off and glares hard back at the gun aimed straight at his heart. His eyes glint in a way that Niall thinks might make him look more dangerous than the wolf. “There’s 5 of us.”

Niall can see the man’s eyes rapidly darting around to count Niall on the ground, Liam defiantly staring him down, Louis wrestling with the other bloke off to the side, Harry and Eric warily circling each other. They only add up to 4. But Liam had said 5.

The man whirls around and throws himself out of the way of the black lightning bolt streaking out from the shadows. Niall can see the new wolf is pure black and leaner than the first when its momentum carries it past the target. But it scrambles to its feet after the thwarted sneak attack and shakes dust out of its pelt. No one can miss the powerful ripple of muscle beneath midnight fur. Quick as anything, it launches itself again at the man, who valiantly holds his ground despite seeing 90-odd kilos of furious wolf barrelling straight towards him. The wolf barely falters when two more bullets graze him. It hits the man square in the chest with a growl, claws shredding and jaws tearing.

Niall slumps to the ground. Liam skids to his side in an instant, cradling his face and shouting far too loudly for Niall to parse out.

He turns his head left and takes in the gruesome tableau of the black wolf lifting its bloody muzzle from the corpse. Its fur is so dark that Niall can almost pretend not to see the scarlet stains even if he can’t ignore the crimson smeared on its fangs.

Niall turns his head right and sees Louis slowly swaying as he rises from the last body. The knife protrudes from the man’s neck, but Louis still has his hands behind his back, so Niall’s has no fucking idea how that worked.

Niall turns his face skyward. He peers past Liam’s ashen face and watches the last of the morning fog burn away. The first rays of sun start to paint the rooftops. It’s not even noon, and he’s already seen 4 people die. That’s not exactly a good omen.

“Niall? Niall, are you alright?” Liam’s wobbling voice filters back in at last. “Oh my God, please say something, anything, mate.”

Niall makes the monumental effort to cover Liam’s hand where it has an iron grip on Niall’s collar. “So,” he says, trying to keep the pain out of his voice and not sure how successful he is based on Liam’s stricken expression, “werewolves, eh?”

Liam hugs Niall close and presses a watery chuckle to his neck. “I fucking told you so, I did.”

“Yeah, Payno,” Niall admits in a deeply wounded voice. “Tragedy of the century, but you did. Cheers.” He smiles despite himself, despite the sweat and fear stink coating him, despite the nasty ache in his knee, despite the 10 years he’s probably lost off his life.

Louis’ grubby face pops into Niall’s field of vision. His bottom lips is swelling from a nasty cut and his hair looks like it went through a hurricane. But his eyes shine bright, and his heart still beats. That’s what counts, Niall reckons. “C’mon, stop messing around. We need to get out of here.”

Liam nodes and pulls Niall’s arm over his shoulders, wraps a steady arm around his waist, and heaves Niall up. “Up we go, that’s it.”

Niall leans gratefully against Liam. Liam and Niall slowly begin walking with bumbling steps. Well, Liam walks, and Niall tries his best not collapse right then and there. Liam looks over his shoulder and calls out, “You good, Hazza?”

The shaggy brown wolf looks up from where it’s nosing and licking at its side.

“Don’t,” Louis warns, shaking his still chained hands threateningly. “You’re bound to muck it up and give yourself an infection.”

The wolf gives Louis an annoyed, scrunched up look as best as it can with whiskers and a muzzle.

“Haz?” The wolf perks up at Niall’s shaky voice, studies Niall’s face with familiar green eyes. The patches of clean fur not dried with blood are a warm brown curling almost red near the tips. Niall can’t help but think that it looks an awful lot like Harry’s wild mane of hair. “Is that really you?”

Harry trots over, finds Niall’s other side, and presses in. Niall hesitantly rests a hand on his matted haunch. He leans into his touch, tail wagging slowly. Niall doesn’t know much about wolves, but he doesn’t think their shoulders are supposed to come up higher than his hip.

“Yes it is. Now can we save the whole werewolf epiphany bullshit for 2 seconds?” Louis demands irritably. “Christ, we’ve probably got about 5 fucking minutes until every hunter in a 10 mile radius shows up and finds those bodies. Not to mention someone’s probably gone and called the police to report gunshots at this point. I don’t know about you lads, but I’d prefer not to be here when that happens.”

Harry nips at Louis’ fingers and whuffs softly, apologetically.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis grumbles, but lets Harry nuzzles his leg anyway. “Love you too. Just move your furry arse. Preferably to fetch some bolt cutters or something of the like to help me out. That’d be ace. Now where the hell is Zayner?”

The second, darker wolf awkwardly walks over. Louis’ eyes narrow when he sees that he’s favoring a hind leg.

He opens his mouth to tell him off, but Niall cuts him off with a strangled, “ _Zayn_?” He doesn’t even know why it hits him so much harder to look at the scruffy, panting canine and see Zayn than to see Harry. Maybe he has a two werewolf friend capacity. Harry, Niall can take in stride even if it’s a bit mental. He hasn’t seen Louis as a wolf yet, but he doesn’t doubt it’s only a matter of time. But throw Zayn into the mix, and Niall just can’t take it.

The black wolf tucks his tail between his legs piteously and creeps tentatively towards Niall. He whines quietly, looking up with big brown eyes—brown eyes that Niall, not too long ago, lay admiring in bed.

Louis purses his lips. “You’re making him nervous.” Harry whines in agreement.

“Sorry, sorry, I just—” Niall chews on his thumb. Liam squeezes his hip reassuringly.

Harry barks abruptly, ears perked up. Louis nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I reckon so too. Get a move on then.”

Before Niall can complain to Liam about being left out of whatever magical werewolf language they’re going on in, he stumbles a bit in Liam’s grasp. He curses when his bad knee threatens to buckle.

But it suddenly doesn’t seem so important when Zayn’s eyes have squeezed shut, when his breathing’s gone desperate and ragged. His fur stands on end, claws digging into the asphalt. His back arches impossibly, dragging a high keen out of him that sets Niall’s teeth on edge. Niall unconsciously makes as though to reach for Zayn’s awful, contorting body, but Harry cuts him off bodily and with a quelling look. Niall stays put, but clenches his hands into fists when Zayn’s lupine bones make ear-splitting cracks as they shift beneath his skin. Liam visibly winces.

Niall almost wants to look away, but he forces himself to watch until at last the harrowing transformation yields his Zayn. He’s starkers, on his hands and knees, and breathing like he’s run a marathon. But Niall’s never been more grateful to see his angled cheekbones and familiar tattoos. He rises stiffly, which Niall supposes makes sense given his atoms have just rearranged themselves.

Then he looks at Niall, face wide open in a way Niall has never seen before. His eyes frantically flit over the dark circles under Niall’s eyes, the haggard state of his borrowed clothes, the obvious way Niall has all his weight on one foot. “Niall…” His voice sounds scratchy from disuse as he helplessly clenches his hands into tight fists. “I—I’m so sorry.” He steps forward, but bites his bottom lip and apparently rethinks his decision. As though he’s bricking it over something stupid like thinking that Niall would push him away or tell him to stay back.

“Malik, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m having a bit of a dodgy knee day.” Niall gestures unnecessarily. “I can’t exactly meet you halfway. You’re gonna have to work with me here.”

The words have barely left Niall’s mouth before Zayn’s there—arms crushingly tight around Niall’s shoulders, face pressed to his neck, hot breaths puffing against Niall’s collarbone—like all he needed was the smallest hint Niall still wanted him in any sense of the word.

Niall embraces him just as desperately, cradles the back of Zayn’s head, runs a hand down his side. He barely notices when Liam shifts Niall’s weight into Zayn’s waiting arms and slips away. Liam wanders over to Louis and Harry, inspects the split in Louis’ lip and rests a hand on the top of Harry’s head.

Zayn’s steadying hands find Niall’s hips. Niall cups his face while their foreheads press together, just breathing and savoring the feeling of existing together again. It feels like years instead of hours since the last time Niall felt Zayn’s skin beneath his fingers, felt the softness of his lips. Which thankfully don’t taste like blood.

The kiss feels restrained, the barest hint of every tumultuous emotion boiling just beneath the surface. It’s not near enough to sate, but it’s enough for now—enough to reassure each other with shared breaths and soft mouths. Niall thinks it feels like a promise of more to come when everything isn’t such an utter shit show. When Niall doesn’t feel so knackered he could keel over any minute. When Zayn doesn’t have blood streaked over his skin in an ugly parody of one of his paintings.

When they finally pull apart, Niall opens his mouth to sob out with relief, to chew Zayn out for disappearing. But what comes out instead is, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Zayn’s eyes widen an amount that would be comical if Niall didn’t feel bile burning the back of his throat. Zayn ducks clear just as Niall empties the contents of his stomach all over the pavement. He retches so violently that he leans against the brick wall for support as his frame shakes.

Zayn makes a face at the rancid smell, but dutifully holds Niall up so he doesn’t fall into his own sick after he finishes. “Okay, love,” he says, guiding Niall to sit with his back against the wall a decent distance from the vomit. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” He brushes Niall’s hair from his forehead. He frowns at how clammy it feels.

“Niall?” Liam kneels down, face contorted with concern. He blinks in surprise when Niall’s eyes flutter shut and he flops unceremoniously onto Liam, head lolling. “Niall, look at me.”

But Niall can’t fight the utmost exhaustion pulling at his eyelids and dragging at his limbs. Each breath feels like a step up the steepest hill Niall has ever had to climb, but he can’t see the top. His lungs just rattle on and on, no end in sight. Like that miserable Greek bloke who has to push a boulder up a hill forever. Sissy-something. Niall truly feels for him now.

“What’s happening?” Liam fights to stop the panic from seeping into his voice. He isn’t sure how successful he is.

“I—I’m not sure. He might be going into shock. His heart is going mad.” Zayn nervously reaches for Niall’s limp hand.

Louis admits, “Today’s not been exactly easy, even for us, let alone a squishy human. I know he’s got something wrong with his foot.” Harry barks. “Yeah, and the hunter jacked up his knee.”  

“So shouldn’t we get him to a hospital?”

“We can’t,” Louis grimaces. “Not here. If hunters are so openly after us, this whole area could be compromised, hospitals included. We need to get out first, and then go lick our wounds.”

“We’re just supposed to leave him like this?” demands Liam hotly, voice escalating.

“It’s too dangerous to stay,” Louis argues firmly.

Liam retorts, “He can’t even stand. What, we’re supposed to carry him all the way to the car back on campus? That’ll take too long. What if we make his knee worse?”

Louis doesn’t respond because he doesn’t have a magical answer to all of Liam’s valid points. He doesn’t have any sort of answer at all.

“There’s…” Zayn says slowly. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes and rests a trembling hand on Niall’s sallow cheek. “There’s another option.”

Louis takes a moment to cotton on before vehemently spitting, “ _No_. Absolutely not. Have you lost your bloody mind?”

Liam looks between Louis’ hard face and Zayn’s resigned expression. “What?”

“Harry,” Louis implores. “Tell him he’s mad.”

Harry silently watches Niall shiver against Liam despite the sweat beading at his wan brow. He gives Louis a pained look.

“No fucking way,” Louis glares, crossing his arms stubbornly. “No fucking way you’re actually considering this.”

“We’re running out of time,” Zayn pleads. “H, please.”

“Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“These two sodding idiots want to bite Neil,” Louis growls, voice going guttural with barely restrained anger. “He’s not even conscious to give consent.”

“We didn’t have a choice either,” Zayn says darkly.

“Exactly!” Louis throws his hands up. “And look how that fucking turned out. Do you not remember how miserable we were at the beginning? We would’ve died without Harry, torn each other apart.”

“We have Harry now.”

“That’s not the point,” Louis pushes. “Niall doesn’t deserve to wake up tomorrow to find out his whole life’s changed without his agreeing to it.”

“What if he doesn’t wake up tomorrow at all? We don’t have much other choice.” Zayn snaps. He cocks his head, ears straining. “Can’t you hear it? They’re coming for us. Niall doesn’t deserve to die because we dragged him into our mess.”

“He doesn’t deserve to turn against his will either.”

Zayn holds Louis gaze, the two of them silently refusing to back down until Louis can’t take it anymore. “He could die from the bite,” Louis fumes, frustrated beyond belief by Zayn’s blindness. “Have you thought about that, Zayn? It isn’t some miraculous cure.”

“Of course I have. But Niall could die without treatment just the same. We don’t have time to pop by the A&E, in case you haven’t noticed.” Zayn takes a calming breath, reigning in the raging emotions threatening to split his skin apart. He focuses on Niall’s faint, sluggish heartbeat and whispers, “The bite could heal him.”

“If he even survives.” Louis mutters grimly. His eyes darken, and he grimaces. “He’s already weakened. His chances aren’t great.”

Liam’s breath catches in his throat. He glances anxiously between Louis’ face, red from arguing, and Zayn’s drawn expression.

Zayn swallows and gazes at Niall’s slack features. He listens to his ragged breaths. “What else can we do?” His voice rasps painfully in his dry throat. He turns a pleading look onto Harry. “ _Please_. You’re our alpha; you’re supposed to protect our pack. That includes Niall. Niall’s one of us, just as much as me or Louis.”

Harry’s tail flicks pensively, troubled. His claws flex.

Zayn knows it’s selfish and unfair to ask Harry to make such an impossible decision. He knows that Harry doesn’t deserve to have either Niall’s death or a new wolf on his hands. But Zayn doesn’t know who else to turn to.

In all their years together, Harry has always guided them through the darkest of days. He helped Louis control the wild beast eating him alive. He saved Zayn from a doomed life as a lone wolf. He gave them a home when the rest of the world told them there was no room for an overly-aggressive beta or a skittish omega in pack hierarchy. He brought two broken kids back from the brink. He saw potential in them that Zayn can’t even find in himself some days. But Harry has never wavered in his belief that Louis and Zayn deserve a pack, a family, and a place to belong just as much as anyone else.

Zayn has tried not to ask for much, too grateful for Harry’s love and warmth to possibly push for more. But right now, with Niall’s life slowly bleeding out onto the cold ground, Zayn has to ask for one more miracle.

“If he doesn’t make it,” Louis’ thick voice cracks, “Haz, that’s going to be on your conscience. You’ll have to live with it.”

“We all will,” Zayn corrects bleakly.

The brown wolf closes its eyes, sighs, and smoothly shifts from lupine to human. Liam startles a little, but marvels at the nearly seamless transformation compared to Zayn’s rocky shift. Harry shakes out his hair in a notably dog-like fashion. “This isn’t about me,” Harry dismisses Louis’ last comment. “It’s about Niall.” He kneels and takes Niall’s lax hand from Zayn, sniffs his wrist. Harry pulls at his bottom lip ruminatively.

“I know.” Louis tugs frustratedly at his hair. “But you spend so much time looking after us that no one is looking out for you.”

Liam holds his breath while Harry examines Niall with gentle hands.

Finally, Harry says, “Zayn’s right. Niall’s one of us. He’s suffering for a battle he never asked to be a part of.” Zayn nearly collapses with relief. “We owe it to him to try.”

In one last ditch attempt to protect his family the only way he knows how, Louis whispers in a fierce and terrified voice, “This could break us apart.” He hates the idea of playing devil’s advocate when the role forces him to consider a future without Niall’s bright laugh or the starry-eyed looks Zayn gets when he looks at Niall. But Louis has to make sure—make sure Harry is looking with his eyes not his heart, make sure Liam knows the stakes, make sure Zayn loves this boy enough to risk everything.

Liam stands to sling an arm over Louis’ shoulders. He lets Louis lean his shaking body into Liam and press his face into Liam’s neck, unable to watch.

Zayn lifts his head, nose twitching minutely. “They’re nearly here, the hunters.”

Harry unzips Louis’ jacket and pushes it down enough to expose Niall’s shoulder. Zayn bites his bottom lip. Harry’s eyes glow red. Louis feels his own eyes flicker gold in response to the raw power simmering in his alpha. Liam’s eyes flick to the far end of the alley where he can hear shouts and running footsteps. Harry leans down, one hand on Niall’s neck to brace him, and sinks his fangs into flesh.

* * *

Zayn exhales shakily, watches the smoke curl and dance in the air before dissipating into nothing. The warm summer breeze tickles his neck. The cherry of his cigarette winks like a beacon out in the darkness. Midnight caresses his skin with faint moonlight, stirring his wolf. But the slender crescent of white in the sky isn’t enough to truly rouse anything, and his wolf sleepily sinks beneath the surface once more.

He’s vaguely aware of the others puttering around in the house they’ve purloined from Nick for the past week. Not that Nick minds since he’s back in Oldham visiting family at the moment. Of course, Louis loudly pointed out, “C’mon, Harold, that tool clearly doesn’t give half a rat’s arse about B&E if he left his spare key under a fucking flower pot.” Harry still politely called to get the greenlight anyway.

They’re only a few hours away from campus, closer than Zayn particularly likes. But they all agreed that staying under the radar is more important right now than risking discovery trying to get away. Not to mention that Niall still isn’t any shape to travel.

The door to the backyard opens, but Zayn doesn’t look back. He continues to lean on the porch railing, idly watching the light flooding from inside narrow as the door closes. Zayn reaches into his pocket and offers his pack just as Louis walks up next to him.

Louis takes a cigarette silently, pulls a lighter out, and puffs out his own cloud of smoke into the stars. “Neil’s still not awake,” Louis says after a couple minutes of quiet sits between them.

“I know.” Zayn can hear Niall’s sleep-slow heartbeat even from out here, same as he has all week ever since the bite.

Louis tries again after a minute of silence, “You made the right call.”

Zayn sighs, still not looking at Louis. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“He’s going to wake up,” Louis insists fiercely, like he can make it happen through sheer force of will. “Any day now the fever’s gonna break, and I’m going to kick his ass for making us wait so long.”

And, honestly, if anyone could do it, Zayn thinks, Tommo could. Fondness finally cracks the numbness that has frozen over his chest. Zayn’s face remains impassive, but he closes his eyes. He focuses on the crumbling sensation around his heart. It hurts like peeling a scab off a wound that has barely finished healing, the pink flesh underneath tender but whole all the same.

Zayn can’t resist poking at the raw wound. “And if he doesn’t? Or if he does and hates me for what I’ve done, what I’ve become? It’s not just what I’ve done to him anymore; it’s what I’ve done to myself.”

All the air seems to rush out of Zayn’s lungs. His tongue sours with the words that have haunted his mind, stolen his sleep for the past week. He tries not to choke on the almost taste the coppery blood gumming up his mouth when he remembers the man he killed.

Zayn has done his best to live a peaceful life despite the carnivore lurking beneath his skin. He doesn’t give into the animalistic impulse to hunt and devour because it’s not fair to take another creature’s life if he can help it. To kill for sport, for unnecessary appeasement of his wolf, isn’t a good enough reason. So Zayn reigns in those particular instincts and digs deep for his humanity.

He’s part wolf, but he’s part human too.

But Zayn doesn’t feel very human anymore, not now that he knows the taste of human blood and the crunch of human bone. His stomach lurches uncomfortably at the thought, shame just as acidic as the bile at the back of his throat, because the worst part is that Zayn doesn’t know if he would take it back if he could. He used to be so certain about who he was. He shies away from violence. He runs from hunters. But he also loves with his whole heart.

Does it mean the love won out because he killed to protect his pack? Or does it mean that he has fallen into a place so deep that he can’t ever claw his way back up again?

The rail groans under the pressure of Zayn’s clenched hands until deft fingers pull them off the abused wood. “Hey,” Louis says with a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Are we even talking about the same Neil? Is there another fit Irish lad you’ve been seeing in secret? Because the one I know could never hate you.”

“If I told you, it’s not much of a secret, innit?”

“Scandalous one, you are, Malik.” Louis shifts closer, side pressed against Zayn’s. “And everyone thought Harold was the diva.”

Zayn sinks into the comforting feeling of pack, lets his cheek rest on Louis’ shoulder like it has so many times before.

Louis’ tone turns uncharacteristically serious, missing the levity he usually dons like armor when he’s not wielding it like a weapon. “It’s gonna be alright. They’re not gonna take him from us. They’re not taking _you_ from us either.”

Zayn blinks and feels the wetness gathered at the corners of his eyes trickle down his cheeks. He nods and takes another drag of his cigarette. It’s second nature to let the conviction of Louis’ words engulf him.

* * *

Niall looks so pallid against the white sheets of his bed, thin frame nearly swallowed up by the veritable mountain of pillows packed around him. But his blue eyes spark with unmistakable life as soon as the door opens. “Zayn! What’s the craic?”

Zayn’s face splits into a massive grin. “Niall.”

Niall’s nose twitches. “You smell like…eggs?”

“I was on a grocery run when Liam called and said you were up,” Zayn explains apologetically. He sits on the edge of the bed, before his knees can give out with relief. He runs a gentle hand over Niall’s cheeks like that will help bring the color back.

“And I could totally hear you for ages, ever since you pulled up to the driveway,” Niall continues excitedly. “Well, I can hear loads of things now. Like.” He tips his head. “Liam and Louis snogging upstairs. Gross. Oi, get a room, you two! And Harry stress baking. Did you know he’s already made a dozen cupcakes and two pies? And that’s just today. No wonder you had to get more food. Honestly, I didn’t even know stress baking was a thing. It makes the house smell divine though. And, Zayn, all the smells! It’s sick. I mean, mostly sick. Like, I like smelling you guys all over the place. But I’m less of a fan of Louis’ dirty laundry. I already used to think his socks smelled putrid, but this is ridiculous. Hey, are you crying?” Niall’s ecstatic expression falters. “Why’re you crying?”

Zayn shakes his head, unable to talk through the thickness constricting his throat.

Niall’s eyebrows furrow, and he makes grabby hands at Zayn, who falls gratefully onto the bed beside him. Niall’s face goes instinctively to the crook of Zayn’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and smoke. The restless energy bouncing inside him settles, content in a way that Niall didn’t realize he was missing until now.

Zayn lets out a shuddery breath and relishes the feeling of Niall tucked under his chin. He can feel Harry’s wolf rumbling with satisfaction as the last piece of their pack clicks into place. Louis’ wolf yips and lashes its tail excitedly. Even Liam’s earnest enthusiasm thrums through Zayn’s veins despite not having a wolf to manifest itself through.

Zayn closes his eyes. And for the first time in a long time, he lets himself hope that everything is going to be okay.

* * *

“So.”

“So,” Zayn echoes obnoxiously.

Niall runs a hand through his hair. “Werewolves, they’re a thing.”

Zayn agrees unnecessarily, “Werewolves.” He flashes his eyes gold like Niall needs the physical proof, like Niall hasn’t spent the past couple days trying with varying degrees of success to do the same.

Niall leans in close, cradles Zayn’s jaw in his hands. Zayn goes cross-eyed trying to keep Niall in his sights and silently preens when Niall giggles. “That’s pretty fucking sick, bro. You know, when people aren’t trying to murder us.” Zayn winces. Before he can stutter out an apology, Niall adds smugly, “By the way, me and Liam totally called it.”

Zayn frowns and leans back. “No you didn’t.” His boyfriend is many things—lover of potatoes, impressive mimicker of accents, generous lover—but werewolf radar? Not a chance.

“Yes we fucking did.” Niall starts counting off on his fingers. “First, Liam had this moon calendar-chart thing. He found out we’d never spent any full moons with you guys, except the first night we meet when Louis tried to deck me.” Niall pauses. “Which, in hindsight, was from the full moon.” He looks to Zayn for confirmation.

Zayn nods. “Yeah, we were going to spend the night in like usual. But Harry heard Liam was going to be there.” He smirks. “And Louis hasn’t shut up about Liam since the school year started.”

Niall grins. “Called that too. Anyway, next, Gracie hated your guts.”

Zayn tips his head, puzzled.

“The grey tabby that runs around campus,” Niall explains. “She hissed at you, and she’s the nicest thing I’ve ever met. Liam’s rubbish with animals and even he can pet her.”

Zayn pouts. “It’s not my fault. Animals can usually tell we’re wolves. Cats and dogs and things, they freak out.”

Niall kisses his cheek commiseratingly. “Which brings me to my next point: Z. Harry’s dog, who may or may not exist. The jury’s still out if I’m being honest.”

Nonplussed, Zayn blinks. “Z? Of course he exists. What’re you on about?”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t. I’m just saying me and Liam have never ever seen you and Z in the same place at the same time,” Niall shrugs like the matter is out of his hands. “Just saying, love, it is a bit suspicious. Even now.” He casts an exaggerated look around, raising one hand to shield his narrowed eyes from imaginary sunlight. “You’re here, but Z’s nowhere to be found. Coincidence? I think not. Also the whole matching names. Not exactly subtle, is it?”

“Z is short for Zia,” Zayn explains, amusement curling at the corner of his mouth. “It’s an Arabic name. It means light.”

“But he’s black,” Niall points out sensibly. He can already imagine Liam’s confusion.

“It made sense at the time,” Zayn tries. At Niall’s raised eyebrow, he huffs, “Don’t ask me; ask Haz. But I’m more interested in the fact that you think me and Harry’s dog doesn’t exist.”

Niall crosses his arms stubbornly. “Show me Z right now, and I’ll let it go.”

“Gigi’s taking care of him back at the flat,” Zayn admits sheepishly.

“That’s what I thought.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Third,” Niall plows on, electing to ignore Zayn’s completely untrue statement. Honestly, the things he does for this boy. He pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal a dark bruise sitting below his collarbone.

Zayn makes a pleased noise, thumb brushing over the hickey.

“Yeah,” Niall slaps his hand away, “it’d be hotter if I didn’t have ten hundred thousand of the damn things everywhere. I asked Liam about it, and he’s got it twice as bad. Ha, get it? Because he has Tommo and Harry? Anyway, we might as well be chew toys.” Niall crosses his arms in a mock serious look.

Eyes darkening, Zayn bites at his bottom lip. “You complaining?”

Niall leans in. “Touche.”

* * *

“I can’t! I can’t fucking do this anymore!” Niall snarls. His eyes flicker between gold and anguished blue like a torch with dying batteries. His head pounds something fierce. His gums ache from fangs that refuse to fall despite spending the past month wrestling with his wolf to no avail. His knee aches even though the bite has thus far proven to have healed it better than new. Even Zayn’s scent doesn’t do anything to ease the asphyxiating pressure squeezing his ribcage.

Niall just needs to get away from it all.

“Niall!” Louis moves to chase after him, but Harry stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Hazza, the full moon’s tonight. He could seriously hurt someone. Or himself.”

“Zayn will go after him,” Harry says, glancing at Zayn, who nods. “We’ve been at this long enough anyway. The training’s obviously not working. But the last thing he needs right now is to be crowded when he already feels suffocated by his wolf.”

Liam shoots a worried look at the door Niall stormed out of. But he has enough experience witnessing Harry’s quiet confidence to trust his alpha’s instincts. If Harry says Niall needs space more than he needs 4 sets of shoulders to lean on, then Liam believes wholeheartedly that’s what’s best.

Zayn reassuringly squeezes Louis’ shoulder and jogs up the basement stairs after Niall. He grunts a little to budge open the door Niall slammed shut and winces at the complaining wood. At the ground floor of the safehouse they’re all holed up in, Niall is nowhere to be seen. But Zayn easily follows the lingering scent of frustration outside. He hates that it’s a scent that has continued to grow more and more prevalent the longer Niall has grappled with controlling his wolf.

Zayn takes a moment to scour the sleepy neighborhood they’ve been hiding in after the hunter fiasco. He waves politely across the street to Mrs. Yamasaki, who is taking her corgi out for a walk.

When they disappear around the corner, Zayn trots around the side of the building and climbs up the ivy-strewn trellis with practiced ease. He swings onto the slanted roof tiles. “Niall?” Zayn squints in the fading evening sunlight, scans the lengthening shadows.

“Here,” comes the weary voice.

Zayn carefully crawls up to the peak of the roof and slides down the gentle slope to the other side of the house. He finds Niall dangling his legs over the gutter, laid down and back flat against the dusty shingles. He has one arm thrown over his closed eyes like he needs the extra shield between himself and the rest of the world right now.

Zayn takes in his pursed lips, the tense line of Niall’s shoulders, and feels his chest tighten. “I’m sorry.”

Niall removes his arm and turns his head to level a look at Zayn. “What for?”

Zayn gestures helplessly.

Niall mimics him, nose wrinkling. “Dunno what the fuck that means, mate.”

“Your,” Zayn struggles for the words, “wolf. This. Everything.”

“Not your fault,” Niall sighs in exasperation. “Unless that first night we met, you were already plotting how to make me fall in love with you so we could get shot at by hunters and give Haz an excuse to bite me.” He laughs humorlessly. “We’ve only had this conversation about 500 times. You did what you thought was right. You saved my life, blah, blah, blah. If you want a word for word transcript, ask Payno. I’m sure he can read it back to you with corresponding dates and times. Might do a funny accent if you beg hard enough too.”

Zayn chuckles despite himself. “I’m sure he could. But I don’t want to talk to Liam right now. I want to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Niall’s eyes find the twilight sky bleeding out red daubs and orange streaks to leave behind deep blues and royal purples. He hones in on the first stars blinking to life. “What about? How I’m utter shit at this whole lycanthropy thing?” Niall’s voice picks up pace and ferocity, lips pulling down in a scowl. “Or how I’m bricking it because what if we never get our normal lives back, or never finish school, or get a job, or see my family again? Or how about that I feel like I’m failing you lot every day?” Niall sucks in a sharp breath and tries to ignore the wetness blurring his vision as he finally spills all the fears clogging his veins. Instead of liberated, he feels more lost than ever. His exhale shudders and trembles. He sits up in an attempt to ease his compressing lungs.

Zayn wipes gently at the tears that gravity coaxes down Niall’s cheeks.

Niall leans into his touch.

Zayn stays quiet for a moment, turning what Niall has given him over and over in his mind. He doesn’t want to squander this chance, this vulnerability that Niall has offered. Niall has always been a rock, in Zayn’s mind. He lets anything and everything wash over him and comes out of the shittiest situations no worse for wear. Nothing seems to come close to touching his good natured attitude—not Louis’ volcanic temper, not Liam’s taxing pedantics, not Harry’s wishy-washiness, not Zayn’s darkest moods. Niall anchors them all. He gives them a safe place to return to no matter what life throws their way.

Zayn can’t fuck up the one time that Niall needs him back.

Finally, Zayn responds to the most important issue first. “None of us think you’re a failure because you’re not.”

Niall shakes his head. “Dunno how you figure that. It’s been months and I can’t shift on command. And when I do change, I lose it. I can’t control what I do or think. I’ve clawed everyone at least twice. How many times has Harry had to alpha me down? I—” Niall bites at his thumb. “I nearly bit Liam.”

Zayn winces at that, memory still vivid enough to make his heart skip a beat. “It was one of your first moons,” he reasons. “We all know it was an accident.” At Niall’s sullen face, he quickly adds, “Still not as bad as some of mine. I tried humping Louis at least twice.”

Niall barks out an outrageous laugh and nearly falls off the roof. The only thing that saves him from tumbling into the garden is Zayn’s tight grip on him as he cackles. It’s louder and freer than Zayn has heard in too long. Niall deserves to laugh like that everyday, Zayn decides  and savors the sound. He tucks Niall into his side, chest shaking with mirth.

“Do,” Niall gasps for breath, “do I have some competition, then? Is this your way of telling me to step up my game?”

Zayn nods seriously. “Better watch out. Think he liked it too.”

“Oi!” They both snicker when they hear Louis shouting at them from inside. “Stop slandering me good Tomlinson name, you tits!”

Niall snorts. “Don’t tell Liam. He’ll get jealous.”

“And leave Liam outta it! Don’t make me come up there.”

“Leave me out of what?”

“Nothing, love,” comes Harry’s faintly amused voice.

“Stop eavesdropping,” Zayn complains halfheartedly. He can’t be truly annoyed when his lips can’t stop smiling and Niall all but glows next to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis dismisses huffily. “Go and have your moment or whatever shite you’ve nipped off to do. We’re having dinner in half an hour before we go out.”

Liam chimes in helpfully, “It’s spaghetti.”

Harry adds, “Don’t get come on the roof. I don’t think Nick would appreciate that.”

That prompts another bout of raucous laughter from Niall and nonsensical caterwauling from Louis. Zayn’s face burns despite the cool night air, and he thanks Allah that he at least has a true friend in Liam.

Niall’s giggles eventually trail off into fond head-shaking and happy sighs.

Zayn can still hear the anxious beating of his heart, smell the persistent melancholy dampening his mood. But he holds his tongue. His patience is rewarded when Niall sobers enough to whisper, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Zayn matches Niall’s quiet tone.

“Letting this take over my life.” Niall studies the rising moon. “I miss our old life. When the most complicated thing I worried about was trying to pick out a shirt for our date, not whether I’m going to wake up tomorrow with blood on my claws and a dead body at my feet. I think… I think it might be why I can’t shift properly. I’m fucking terrified.” He fidgets a little as the moon’s pull trickles into his bloodstream, singeing his nerves.

Zayn clasps Niall’s twitching hands with his own. He looks into blue eyes reflecting stars and galaxies, then looks past the extraneous constellations into the person underneath. “You won’t hurt anyone. I won’t let you. Every time you go full wolf, I’m there with you. We all are. Do you trust me?”

Niall answers without hesitation, heart beating true. “Of course.”

“Good.” Zayn leans in for a gentle kiss, closes his eyes to bask in the moonlight streaking his hair and the softness of Niall’s lips. Niall hums and places a hand on Zayn’s jaw, familiar and warm. Every touch feels electric with barely contained energy, two beasts patiently testing their leashes because they know the cage doors will fall away soon enough.

Zayn pulls away reluctantly to suggest, “Let’s get down before we shift and have to find out the hard way if wolves land on their feet like cats.” He watches Niall grin and easily jump from the roof to the springy grass underneath before following.

Niall tips his head back. Sweat beads at his silvered temple. “It hurts,” he grits out, breathing going a bit more labored.

“Don’t fight it,” Zayn advises, reaching out to cup Niall’s face in his hands. Their foreheads press together, and Niall grips Zayn’s biceps to ground himself. “Don’t be afraid.” Niall gulps, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I’m right behind you.”

Niall gasps and lets the wolf bubble to the surface for the first time instead of resisting. He’s amazed by how nearly painless the transformation is once he allows himself to sink beneath fur, fangs, and claws. His fear doesn’t completely evaporate, but Niall acknowledges it instead of shoving it deep down. He refuses to let it wrest control away from him. As nervous he feels about letting the wolf take over, he wonders if maybe his unadulterated fear of the wolf isn’t just as bad.

His skin prickles and his joints crack, but in the space of a breath, Niall shakes out his pelt for the first time and bounds eagerly around Zayn. He marvels at the luxurious pull of taut muscle, the heightened senses drinking everything in greedily. Scent and sight blend together, the moon burns bright in the sky, the earth thrums under his paws. He feels invincible.

Zayn laughs at the pleased way Niall thumps the ground with his tail and follows suit, languorously stretching out each leg and yawning to reveal massive teeth. Niall licks playfully at the bottom of his jaw and leaps away, tongue lolling eagerly. Zayn chases after him, nostrils flaring.

Louis pokes his head out and grins at the sight of the two frisking wolves. “Oi, Harold, I think we’re gonna run early tonight.”

Liam frowns and looks morosely at the colander of noodles sitting in the sink. “What about dinner?”

“We’ll eat it tomorrow,” Harry promises, kissing the top of Liam’s head.

Liam hastily checks that the stove is off and locks the door on his way out. Louis shucks his clothes and slides easily into fur. He rears up to lap at Liam’s spluttering face and lopes over to tussle with Niall.

Harry reaches for Liam’s hand, guiding him outside. “Coming?”

Liam takes it and steps out under the moonlight with his pack. Niall barks excitedly and lopes over with the other two hot on his tail. “Always.”


End file.
